Within the Roses and Thorns
by WriteYourDreamsTheyWillCome
Summary: Sequel of In All His Beauty.
1. Chapter 1

Emma turned to face the bathroom mirror and looked at what magic her cousin Andy had worked.

"You look hot, Emma. It's been a month, and you need to get out and start seeing some guys again. So Dr. Hottie wasn't the right one; we'll find someone better." Andy tucked the red lipstick back in her purse.

She hadn't told anyone what had happened between her and Jason...well, Andrew. She and Prince were a little cramped in this small apartment in Kansas, but it allowed her money to stretch farther until she could get a job. That meant a tight fit in the bathroom with her and Andy in it. She surveyed the short red dress in the mirror and her dark hair piled in a mess on her head. Andy had somehow made it look like a sexy mess. "I look like a hooker."

Andy looked at her in the mirror. "Okay, maybe the red lipstick and dark eyeshadow is too much. I'll lighten it up."

"Thanks for coming out from Chicago, Andy." She turned and let Andy start wiping some of it off.

"Of course. I'm glad you moved here instead of South Carolina. I was worried about hurricanes."

She didn't say anything. At first she'd been so panicked that she'd taken Prince out on the coast. But then after thinking about some of the things her dad had talked about from work, she'd come back to the west Kansas border. Sometimes staying under someone's nose was the best place to hide. In time Jason would likely stop looking for her, if he even was anymore. Her heart ached thinking about him. One night she'd woken up from a nightmare and wept because he hadn't been there to hold her. But that was the past.

"Alright, let's go." Andy put on a finishing touch with soft pink lipstick and pulled her out the door.

She walked into the dark bar/dance club with Andy. This loud, pop music place with a DJ was not the first thing that popped to mind about Kansas. A couple of cute guys eyed them pass by to get to the bar. "Are you sure this is a good place to meet _nice_ guys?" she called over the music as Andy dragged her by the hand through the crowd.

"Totally. I met loads of hot guys at places like this in college." Andy leaned over the bar and ordered two drinks from the bartender.

That hadn't been the question. She sighed and glanced around. When Andy had said over the phone she was out this way for a business trip and would get her out of the apartment for an evening, a dance club hadn't been on the agenda.

"Hi, there. A bit crowded, isn't it?"

She turned to see a guy with kind blue eyes and dark blonde hair smiling at her. He wore a dress shirt and khakis with black dress shoes. A pang shot through her chest. He dressed a bit like Jason. "Yeah," she replied, forcing a smile.

"My brother wanted to come here for his bachelor party." He pointed over to a table of boisterous men talking with some girls. "Not really my thing. Are you here with your friend?" He nodded to Andy.

Andy turned to him before she could respond. "Hi. This is my cousin, Emma. I'm Andy." She shook his hand. "She's getting over a breakup, so I'm taking her out for a night on the town." Andy smiled and nudged her back.

She lost her balance in the stilettos and fell against his chest. "Oh, I'm sorry." Her face burned in embarrassment as he caught her elbow and steadied her.

"No worries." He glanced at Andy and seemed to bite back a smile, as if knowing Andy had nudged her on purpose. "You don't look like this is really your thing either," he said in a low voice under the music.

She shook her head and looked away. "I guess it's pretty obvious. Andy said it's a good way to get over an ex."

"Ugh, that sucks. Must've been a jerk to lose a girl as sweet as you seem. Can I get a table...?" He looked around. The few tables were taken, but a slow song came on, and half the dance floor cleared. "Well, maybe a dance?" He rubbed his temple. "Thank God for some quiet music, huh?"

She smiled, her head thankful for a break in the pulsing music too. Then she glanced at Andy, who nodded and had a guy steal her attention away. He gestured for her to lead the way through the crowd. She stopped a couple times, trying to squeeze through around people. Another pang of grief hit. Jason would have offered his arm or taken her hand and parted the crowd himself for her. Jason who wasn't really Jason.

When she reached a bare spot on the dance floor, she turned, automatically ready for a waltz dance hold. He set his hands on her hips, and she tensed for a moment. Then she scanned the dancers. Everyone danced close. She rested her hands near his elbows to put some space between them.

"I'm Aaron, by the way. I don't think I introduced myself."

She bit her lip, that nervous feeling around men inching up. This feeling hadn't existed with Jason. She snorted. Apparently her instincts didn't work well.

"Is everything alright?" He looked a little offended.

"Oh, sorry. Something popped into my head."

"Oh." He smiled and seemed to relax. "Are you from around here?"

Before she could answer, a burly red-haired guy stepped up, dwarfing Aaron. "May I cut in?"

Aaron looked a little surprise and then at her. "Do you know this guy?"

She shook her head and looked at the man. He had the badass biker look about him. The scary badass look. She shrank a little closer to Aaron.

"I think she's done for the night." Aaron took her hand and started to lead her off the floor.

The biker guy put a hand on Aaron's chest. "I didn't hear her say so."

She threw her shoulders back, utterly sick of men. "Guys, I'm just going home. Alone." Then she pulled away from Aaron and swept past. A hand locked on her wrist. She turned to face Aaron, only it was the biker who held her wrist. And he looked angry. Aaron stood behind him looking nervous. Great, no help from that corner. Her heart beat faster when a couple other bikers flanked the man's sides. Shit, this wasn't good.

"Let the lady go. Now," a deep voice growled behind her.

Her heart stilled. She should've been frightened and terrified about how Jason had found her, but relief swept through like a breath of fresh air. Out of the two evils, the bikers were definitely worse.

"Or what?" the man snickered and pulled her closer. She stumbled forward into his rotund gut, barely coming up to the man's shoulders even in her heels. His friends cracked their knuckles and smiled, anxious for a fight.

She looked over her shoulder at Jason with wide eyes. These guys had experience with fights, and there were three of them. Jason wore the plastic skin-toned mask and, of course, a suit. He didn't seem worried at all.

He shrugged off his suit coat and handed it to Aaron. "If you're not going to be any help, at least keep this free of blood for me," he drawled. Then he looked at the bikers.

"Are you sure you can aim with one eye there, pirate?" the man snickered. "Ya gotta hook hidden in there somewhere too?"

She wanted to punch his rotund gut for making fun of Jason.

"Let her go. The lady clearly doesn't want the attention," he repeated, as calm as could be.

The man laughed. "Sure she does." He started to reach to grope her.

In the next instant, he laid flat on his back. She blinked down at him and then at Jason. His hand unfisted, and he adjusted his cufflink as he looked at the other two bikers. "Anyone else?"

They both rushed at him at once, and she startled and looked around for something or someone to help beat them off Jason. But Jason simply let one biker run into his fist and the other slam a chest into his outstretched arm. The man's feet flung out from under him and he crashed onto his back on top of the other guy.

"Get out, or I'm calling the cops!" the bartender yelled.

"Gladly." Jason took his suit jacket from Aaron. "How about next time you protect a lady's honor?" Then Jason grabbed her hand, caught Andy's arm as she stood with her mouth hanging open, and pulled them outside.

She tried to absorb the last five minutes and stood in the snow staring at him dumbly as he pulled on his suit jacket and coat.

"Andy, I have no doubts you were the one behind this. Did you two at least bring coats?" He looked at her and Andy standing on the sidewalk shivering.

"You don't bring a coat to a dance club. It'll get stolen," Andy answered.

He heaved an irritated sigh and pulled off his dress coat to wrap around her shoulders. Then he gave his suit jacket to Andy.

Stevens pulled up. "Andy, get in the front," Jason ordered.

Andy did without hesitating.

Then he opened the back door for her. She shook her head. "Emma, you're going to catch your death. Get in the car." His voice was tight with irritation.

She raised her chin. "No."

He slammed the door but calmly leaned against it and folded his arms over his chest. "Fine. We can stand out here and freeze."

"Why would I get in a car with a man I don't know?!" Her temper snapped and she pointed at the car, his coat sleeves completely hiding her hands. She didn't need him. Or his jacket or heat or love. The tears welled, blurring her vision. She didn't need him more than she needed air. Ripping off his coat, she threw it at him and started marching away.

Within two strides, his coat enveloped her in his heat, and Jason's strong arms wrapped around. His breath warmed her ear. "Emma, stop." He whispered. She stilled, tears falling from her lashes. His safe embrace was what she missed the most. "I'm sorry. I realize my temper that day scared you when you were already frightened from finding out I'm not who I said. How I feel about you was all real, Emma. I'd never ever physically harm you, and I'm so sorry I broke your heart. Please, just hear me out."

"How do I know this time it's the truth?" she whispered, losing the will to resist him. How she'd missed his smell and touch, his voice and...everything about him.

"Because I have documents and newspaper clippings in the car to back it up." His cheek rested against hers. "God, I've missed you. Please, Emma," he whispered. "It ripped my heart out when you left. Let me at least explain. If you still choose to go, I vow you won't ever have to see me again."

The pain in his voice broke her heart. Part of her wanted to push him away, to keep sealed the part of her heart that had hardened to hide from the pain of losing him. But there was a part that would never stop loving him either. "Five minutes," she whispered. "The car doesn't move."

"Alright. You're getting snow on your toes in those sandals." His voice remained quiet, as if resigned to the idea that she hated him. Then he gently scooped her up and carried her to the car.

Her heart broke. Despite everything, he still wanted to take care of her.

Stevens got out and opened the door. Jason set her inside and shut the door before walking around to get in on the other side.

He turned a bit in his seat to face her and looked her in the eye. "My name, until four years ago, was Andrew O'Malley. Everything else I told you was true, Emma." Then he paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "I was also your dad's case for the FBI. Your birthday wasn't the first time I'd met him."


	2. Chapter 2

She stared at him. "Don't you dare," she hissed, with angry tears brimming. "Don't you dare say my dad lied to us all those years about what he did. He worked on druglord cases-"

"He did, Emma," he cut in gently and reached out to rest his hand over hers in her lap. At the last instant, he stopped himself, though. This wall between them hurt when only a month ago they'd shared everything. Compassion filled his eyes. "I was sent on a mission in the Middle East with a team of six to take out a druglord, Emma. It went down as planned, but a few months later the fire happened. Brian and I-"

"His real name is Charles, isn't it?"

He slowly nodded. "We were roommates in an apartment. We had both been on missions against this druglord, and it was suspected some of the followers somehow got the names of all the SEALS in on it. It's thought they started the fire. Your father was pulled in on the fire investigation." He looked her in the eye. "I met your father in the burn unit almost four years ago." He paused, as if to let that sink in.

She curled her knees to her chest on the seat, still warm in his coat, and stared at the back of the passenger seat. "On my birthday, it was all for show. To fool my mom and I."

"No, Emma." His brow furrowed, and he looked so impossibly heartbroken. "Everything was not a lie that I ever said. I met your father for only twenty minutes or so in the hospital. He asked questions and I answered. I hardly recall it because I was pumped full of narcotic pain killers."

She looked away. The grief in his eye tore at her heart. He had no right to feel the pain she did because he'd caused it. He'd chosen not to tell her the truth.

"On your birthday, your father was furious because he'd run background checks on me and remembered how he knew me. I went into a witness protection program, and he was terrified you'd get caught in the crossfire if the terrorists ever discovered my new name. The paparazzi got into the hospital and splashed my picture everywhere, so the terrorists knew I was alive but severely burned. It's too hard to hide after being burned like that." He handed her a news article. "So, the government faked my death."

 _Navy SEAL Hero Dies From Fire_

 _After battling for his life for two weeks, Navy SEAL hero Andrew O'Malley died from severe burns to his face, head, and chest, more than ten percent of his body..._

She couldn't stomach to read more about his injuries and set the paper on the seat between them.

"I came into a modest amount of money from the government giving me funds to start over with a new name. I couldn't practice medicine anymore, due to the burns and living off the grid, so I took my medical knowledge and started working on patents. The government handed me the house I now live in, but it was so rundown it was hardly inhabitable. Once I built up some money, I started renovating. I had so many surgeries that first year and trouble with depth perception that I was housebound. The house became a prison. I know it's ostentacious, but it became an obsession to rebuild it."

Dropping her head into her hands, she rubbed her throbbing temples. There were too many questions. Focus on one at a time. "Why are you here? How the hell did you find me?" Then she looked at him.

The hope in his eye died...almost as if his heart lay dying. He unbuttoned his shirt and looked at her, shaking his head when she opened her mouth in question. A black wire was taped to his chest. She stared. Who had wired him? He ripped it off, making her since for him. The wire snapped. "We have two minutes before the FBI comes. I wanted you to know the truth." He swallowed hard, grief etched on his face. "Emma, I'm not entirely released from the protection program, so the FBI started tracking you when I brought you to my home after the accident. I didn't know they would. They've been tracking you since, but had trouble pinning you down for a week or two after you left." He pressed his lips together and tears gathered in his eye. "They told me yesterday where you were. I had to pull a lot of strings to get the information. I followed you into the club but had no intention of letting you know I was there. I just needed to see that you're alright."

She searched his face, her heart beating fast. No. This was his goodbye. "I don't understand." A tear fell down her cheek.

"You have to go. I wasn't supposed to tell you they're tracking you, so that's why they wired me. I didn't want you always looking over your shoulder, afraid that I've been stalking you." Then he captured her face between his hands and brushed a tender kiss over her lips. He pulled back, his lips a breath away. "Go," he whispered. "You'll be put in the protection program too if they find out that you know. Your freedom will be stripped away. Right now they're just keeping an eye on you to make sure you don't tell anyone."

She didn't move.

"Emma, go," he begged. "You'll be forced into the program if you stay. It's not a life I want for you."

There were so many questions. Two black SUVs pulled behind them.

"Emma, get out of the car like you're angry and slap me." He scooted over toward her.

"What?!"

"Pretend like I was trying to make out with you, and that's how the wire broke. Don't let them know you saw it. Get your lipstick on me." He crushed his mouth on hers, a rough, calculated kiss. But it was his kiss, his touch that she hadn't had in so long. It melted her heart all the same. "Get out." He pulled his coat off her. "Slap me hard."

"I'm not slapping you!"

"Get out!" he barked and pushed her across the seat.

She climbed out, trying to ignore the SUVs, probably filled with testosterone-pumped men eager to pull triggers.

Jason grabbed her wrist to pull her back, his shirt now untucked from his pants. He tugged her to him. "Slap me," he whispered. "Get angry."

She pushed away from him, her brow furrowed with anger. "Stop it," she frowned. "I'm not hitting you."

He grabbed her bottom and curled his arm around her to pull her against his hard chest. "Emma," he warned.

"Stop it, or they'll think you're assaulting me," she ground out and tried to push against him.

"Then I'm spending the night in jail if you won't cooperate. It's for your own good. I'm sorry."

Before she could ask what he was sorry for, he shoved her against the cold car and started kissing her neck. The freezing metal made her shove and push at him to get away from the almost painful cold. He clasped her wrists gently but firm enough to not let her free. "I love you," he whispered. She stilled, his words warming her. "I would give you the world if I but could. But I have less to offer than you realized."

"Get off!" One of the agents pulled Jason away.

She eased away from the car, shaken by his words. He loved her. Without a doubt, he'd always meant those words with every fiber of his being. Those words had never been a lie. She rubbed the goosebumps covering her arms.

Two agents roughly handcuffed him, but he didn't seem to care. The humiliation of being arrested in front of her paled behind the love and grief that shined as his blue eye held her gaze. Her heart beat faster. It was all happening too fast. There were so many questions, so many things left to tell him.

"Get in the car," an agent, whom Jason could have easily taken on even handcuffed, shoved him along. "Sorry, ma'm. Off duty cops." He flashed a badge too fast to see.

Once again, Jason had offered himself up in her stead, trading his freedom for her own. "Wait, I'm not pressing charges." She stepped closer and held out a hand as they loaded Jason in the car.

"Don't worry. We'll charge him so he won't retaliate against you."

She frowned. "You can't charge him with assault when I'm not pressing charges."

"Disorderly conduct."

She stepped around the door so he couldn't close it. A warning bell rang in her head. "Let me see your ID again. Seems awfully convenient a cop pulled up in an unmarked car right when I needed it." If Jason lived in such a dangerous world, these guys might be playing both sides of the fence too. She glanced at Jason in the backseat beside the man. He shook his head that everything was alright.

The agent sighed and flashed an ID. She grabbed the bottom of it to stop him and read his name. Matthew Gibbs. "And what station are you going to?"

Jason cleared his throat pointedly that she needed to shut up.

"He's from Colorado-"

"And your 'crime' occurred in Kansas." She set a hand on her hip, her body almost entirely numb from the cold. "I'll meet you downtown, three blocks away, gentlemen." Something was going on.

When she glanced at Jason, he shook his head. "Emma, it's alright."

She searched his face. Was he just saying that so she wouldn't be worried? Her gut said they were going to beat him up if he wouldn't admit what he'd told her. She met the agent's angry glare. "I'll follow behind, Mr. Gibbs. And meet you at this station. I'll call and let them know the expect us." And to be ready for a kidnapping. She shut the door and hurried into Jason's car. She rolled down the divider as the SUV passed them.

"Stevens, whatever you do, don't lose that car."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, Singingsilent, Writingphotographer, CRB, Sophia, EllieWillBite, and Callico11852.**

 **You're right, CRB. I wrote Ch 2 while having some insomnia, and it seemed brilliant at the time. Yesterday I had to back myself out of a corner with this chapter. I had to write a few versions of Ch 3 to figure out how to dig myself out, but think I was able to pull it off. Hopefully everyone agrees it wasn't too "off the rails." :)**

* * *

The SUV tore down the street, but Pete kept up. The speedometer reached 45 miles in the 25-mile area of downtown. Then the SUV made a left turn, going the opposite direction of the police station.

She whipped out her cell. A chill ran down her spine. "Pete, back off. They want to lose us. Let them think they did." She dialed 911. "I'm reporting an abduction. There's at least three armed men involved, and we're following the two black SUVs." She relayed directions as they left town. Pete flipped off the headlights and picked up speed. 55, 60, 65 miles per hour on country roads.

She shoved the phone at Andy to relay directions. "Don't say 'FBI' or they'll say this isn't their problem then. Pete, tell me you have an idea what's going on?"

"I have no idea why these guys are after Dr. Port."

She bit her lip and sat back. "Do you by chance carry a gun?"

"What?" He glanced at her over his shoulder like she was crazy. "He keeps one under the backseat, but you're not touching a gun. Emma, what are you planning?"

To somehow get a gun to Jason and hope his SEAL training would be enough to get them out. For some reason, her hands didn't shake. Needing to keep her head so Jason didn't die was probably a big part of it. She jerked on the back seats and her fingers brushed a hard plastic edge in the middle seat. Pushing it in, she lifted the seat. The moonlight revealed a handgun.

"Does he keep this loaded?" She picked it up carefully and found the safety switch on.

"Yes! Don't touch it!" Pete snapped.

"Oh my god, she's getting out a gun! Get over here!" Andy yelled into the phone.

The SUVs pulled off the road into some woods.

"Pull over right here," she ordered Pete. He did. The moonlight would be an enemy tonight. "Andy, give me Jason's jacket."

"You aren't going out there. There could be ten of them, and you have no idea how to use a gun!" Pete locked the doors.

"I'm smaller than you. These trees are our only cover, and they won't hide you. Coat, Andy." She took it and slid it on. "Tell the cops to not have their sirens on when they come."

"Here. I have boots on. At least your feet won't freeze. Are you sure we shouldn't come?" Andy handed over her shoes.

She switched shoes fast. "Stay here. Jason can get two of us out better than four."

"Emma, I can't let you do this." Pete grabbed her arm.

She met his eyes. "I can't let them beat or kill or whatever they're planning on doing to him. Call Rob Schmidt in my phone. He's my dad's old FBI partner. Tell him I told you to call about Jason Port and we have crooked agents. He'll know what to do. Matt Gibbs is one of the agents." Then she slipped out the door and quietly shut it.

The moonlight reflected off the snow. Not a sound could be heard. Shit, she had no idea what to do besides get a gun to Jason. If he was beat up too bad or unconscious, she'd be in a shitload of trouble. She darted behind trees and went deeper and deeper into the woods, guided only by the moonlight. Maybe Pete should have driven down the road. It could be a few miles back, or maybe this road was a real road and they were far gone now.

A gun fired in the distance, the sound echoing through the woods. Her heart stopped. THat might have been Jason's killing shot. The panic seized her. She broke into a run toward the sound. Her feet slipped on ice. The cold numbed her hands. The air burned her lungs. She dropped to a squat behind a tree when a voice sounded close. Her eyes scanned the darkness.

"Answer, O'Malley!"

A sickening crack and a grunt of pain followed. "I don't know what files." Jason's voice carried weak and full of pain.

Her eyes closed in relief. He was alive. Hurt but alive. She kept to the shadows and inched closer. Two men held Jason on his knees with his hands still in handcuffs behind his back. His white shirt had dark stains on the front. Blood? The moonlight wasn't bright enough to see if his face was battered. A third man about Jason's size stood in front of him with a gun aimed at Jason's head.

"What has Hoplin's daughter said?" the man with the gun demanded.

She raised the gun. Shooting the armed man might make him pull the trigger. The other two men were far enough above Jason he'd be in the clear if she had bad aim. Adrenaline kept fear at bay, thank God.

"She thinks her father was a desk agent who worked on tax fraud accounts," Jason lied.

The man with the gun punched him on the burned side of his face. The two men held Jason upright. "Fucking liar!" The man raised the gun and started yelling so loud it echoed unintelligible from this distance.

Now. She needed to shoot now before he shot Jason. Bracing herself, she aimed at the man on Jason's left so he'd see the man fall. She pulled. Nothing. Shit. What was wrong with the damn gun? This was not the time for it to not work! Her heart slammed. She fiddled with the piece and then spotted the safety on. Flipping it off, she whipped up the gun, braced, and pulled. It fired, making her jump from the loud boom. The man fell. she darted away.

The men looked around and got down. Three more jumped out of the SUV with guns. Shit. She hadn't counted on that. This wasn't good.

"Get out there," the leader said quietly. The men took off in the direction she had been.

Jason used the distraction and jumped up, swinging his legs through his arms to bring the handcuffs in front of him. Then he swung his arms over the unarmed man's neck before the man could reach for a gun. The man grabbed Jason's arms. A loud crack. The man suddenly hung limp, his head at an odd angle between Jason's hands.

The man with the gun aimed at Jason's head. Jason ducked behind the body as a shield as a shot fired.

Oh god! He's going to kill Jason! She charged at the man and fired. And killed a tree. She slammed to a halt right behind the man and stared in shock that he wasn't on the ground. He turned, looking shocked to see her standing there. With a squeak of panic, she slammed the gun into his head, expecting him to fall over in unconsciousness.

"Ow! What the hell?" He rubbed his head.

Jason shot forward from behind the man and slung his arms over the man's head to choke with the handcuffs. He dragged the man backwards, obviously struggling to pull so much weight when the man fought to get traction. He kept enough tension that the man couldn't make a sound. Then Jason somehow flipped the man, turned so she couldn't see, and knelt in his back. Another crack. Jason stood and the man collapsed in a lifeless heap.

She stared. He'd just killed two men. Something grabbed her ankle. She looked down and a scream of horror was cut off when Jason clamped a hand over her mouth. The man she'd shot lay in a pool of blood, part of his face shot off.

Jason pulled her away to face the other way and grabbed the gun out of her hand. A shot fired, and she jumped. Even though she didn't look, it didn't take much to figure out he'd put the man out of his misery.

He grabbed her arm and ran around to the other side of the SUV. He knelt with his back to the car and pulled her down. Pulling some kind of wire off the gun, he started picking the handcuffs. "What the fuck, Emma," he whispered. "Tell me you aren't here alone."

"Andy and Pete are in the car about a quarter mile up the road," she whispered. "We called 911."

"Fuckin' 911 isn't goin' ta help right now," he growled, falling into a Scottish accent.

"You're welcome for the gun," she whispered pointedly.

He gave her a look. "Ay had it under control." He tossed aside the handcuffs.

"Are you gonna argue or get us out of here?"

"Ay can't believe ye did somethin' so stupid." He crouched down to look under the SUV.

"Oh, and your idea of getting them to arrest you was good?"

He fired a shot from under the car and a thud followed. Three down. He said something, his accent so thick she couldn't make it out.

"What the hell is with the accent all of the sudden? I can't understand you," she huffed.

He grabbed her wrist and dragged her along to crouch behind the next SUV. "What's the point when ye know? Most American accents sound nasally an' stupid anyways."

"What?!" she whispered. Her blood pressure shot up higher, if possible.

He glanced at her. "Ay said 'most.' Right now Ay'm too pissed at ye ta say yers is adorable." Then he shoved her down and shot.

A body fell beside her. Jason slapped a hand over her mouth when she screamed. Then he pulled her along through the woods.

"You could've said he was behind me. Jesus. You just go around shooting like it's tea time or something." She crouched down lower and looked around for the last man on the loose.

"An' hear ya scream in my ear? Why do women scream? Does it launch a bullet? No. Gives away yer damn position is what it does." He scanned the trees, the gun raised and at the ready.

Her mouth fell open. "Well, that's the last time I'm bringing a gun to you."

"Next time brin' somethin' a bit bigger," he drawled.

She did a double take. What man who had been taken hostage and had killed five men sat in the woods arguing when there was a killer on the loose? "What is wrong with you?"

His eyes remained scanning the landscape. "Ay dunno, maybe havin' ta do a sting operation on crooked FBI after ye, ye makin' 'em panic an' detour so Ay lost me backup, an' then ye showin' up fer a gun fight has me goddamn wired."

She fell silent, mostly because he sounded quite angry that she'd messed everything up for him. He'd never spoken so harshly to her before either. This was messed up-she should be terrified and crying. But having Jason here strengthened the feelings of safety.

He heaved a sigh. "Sorry. It isn't yer fault. Ay'm just damn stressed tryin' ta get ye outta here...Come," he whispered, cutting himself off. He grabbed her arm to keep her close.

She inched along with him, her heart beating fast. Maybe he did have a point with arguing during everything-she hadn't felt as anxious as at this moment. She jerked to a halt when a man all in white and a white ski mask crept toward them.

"He's with me," Jason whispered. The man knelt beside them. "Four down, one armed shadow last seen at eleven o'clock."

The man whispered into some kind of walkie talkie. She scanned the woods. Slips of white movement barely noticable appeared scattered throughout the forest. The Calvary had arrived.

He pressed her forward, and they crept along until they reached the road where a man got out of a white car hidden in the trees. The man opened the door, and she got in with Jason.

"Are they going to take over?" Her heart started slamming and hands started shaking hard now that it was done. She peered out the window and rubbed her arms through his suit jacket, the warm air from the heater thawing her bones.

Jason grunted.

She looked at him at his uncharacteristic answer. He peeled off his shirt caked in blood to reveal a long gash on his side. "Oh god, were you shot?" She bent down in the seat to get a clearer view in the moonlight through the tinted windows. It didn't look deep enough for stitches.

Her door whipped open, and she nearly screamed. God, her nerves couldn't take this.

Pete stood there and tucked a gun into a holster under his suit. "Jesus, scare the shit outta me, why dont'cha?"

She stared. "You said you didn't have a gun."

Jason lunged for him over her, but she pushed him back. His eye flashed and body coiled. He looked ready to kill Pete. "You asshole! You let her go out there alone?!"

"She's never shot a gun. Do you think she hit that guy in the face?"

"What?!" She whipped around to Pete. "You followed me?" Well, at least she hadn't killed anyone and didn't need to deal with that mental breakdown.

Pete snorted. "Uh, yeah. It was either that and keeping an eye on you, or you sneaking out behind me on your own." He pointed at her. "I know how stubborn you are when it comes to him."

"He'd damn well better have followed you," Jason snorted. "He's a former cop."

She stared at Jason. Was anything what she'd thought?

She sat sideways in the car doorway with a thermal blanket around her while getting questioned and the FBI swarmed everywhere. Jason sat in the back of an ambulance on the other side of the road getting his wound cleaned up. She clutched the blanket tight. The trembling still hadn't stopped.

Jason walked over in an extra FBI jacket as soon as the questioning agent left. He leaned against the car and stared ahead, offering his profile. A bruise darkened around his eye. "I don't blame you if you never want to speak to me again."

"Who are you really? How can I even trust what you tell me this time?" Tears built in her eyes as she stared at the pavement, still in shock.

He sighed softly, as if this was hard for him too. "I haven't uttered a lie to you, Emma. I wouldn't do that to you. Yes, I've had to omit many things, which you have a right to see as lying. The two FBI agents here were ones trailing you. They pulled in outside guys, which is why they were so easy to take down. Frank, the guy who met us in the woods, is the one assigned to me for witness protection. I was asked to be part of this sting because of the close tie I have to you, but the only way we could draw them out was to get you involved. For that I'm so sorry. You were supposed to stay behind at the club, and you never would have been the wiser."

"I don't understand anything that's going on," she sniffled.

"It's nearly midnight. Let me go see if they have any other questions for you, and then I'll take you home." He crossed the street and talked to a group of agents.

Was Jason an agent? Did he do this sting as a SEAL? Why were crooked agents after her? Was Pete some kind of bodyguard for him? There were so many questions. Nothing made sense. He had this whole other secret identity. Like a goddamn superhero. She started laughing. Geez, simply having a rich boyfriend seemed like a dream come true compared to this.

He returned and held out his hand to help her stand. Then he let go when she got to her feet. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "If I hadn't left, would you have ever told me about all of this?"

He slowly nodded. "In time. Don't say anything to Andy. She's been briefed on what she needs to think happened."

She walked to his car with him. He didn't wrap his arm around her or promise he'd protect her or chase the monsters away. Maybe he had been serious back at the club that they were over. He held the door, open and she climbed in, scooting all the way over for him.

Andy talked the whole way to her hotel. Nonstop from adrenaline. Once they started to her place, the car was dead silent.

"Why were they after me?" she asked quietly and stared out the window.

"We don't know. They caught the last guy and are going to question him. He's the one whom we think orchestrated all of this." His voice hummed patient and gentle.

"Are you FBI?"

"No, I was assigned as a SEAL." Silence. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. You distracted them enough it gave an opportunity for escape. You probably saved my life. Thank you, Emma. It just terrified me finding you out there in the middle of it." He didn't sound shaken at all. But then again, SEALS were trained to handle anything.

He'd probably drop her off and then go back to Colorado. Her chest tightened with grief. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear closest to him. He caught her hand. Turning, she looked at him in surprise.

"You're still shaking." He frowned and switched to the middle seat. Then his arm wrapped around her, and his hand guided her head to rest on his shoulder.

Closing her eyes, the tears leaked out. It was safe here in his arms. So safe.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Ahh! Thanks for all the reviews! :D 8 since yesterday! :) I'm so glad everyone likes the story. This plot got far more intricate than I planned, so let me know if I mix up something.**

 **The medical care and SEAL training are real, BTW. I research to make stories as accurate as possible. :)**

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They pulled up to her apartment building after giving Pete directions. She sat up and unbuckled. How could they ever start over? So many secrets and deceptions. Her heart ached so much it made her stomach hurt. Just a month ago she had wanted to one day become his wife. He had seemed so perfect. Too perfect, it turned out. She looked at him.

His poor eye was going to be a shiner by morning. With the punch he took on the burned side of his face, he might be too sore to wear the mask tomorrow too. "Are you alright? Maybe you should go to the hospital and get checked."

He didn't meet her eyes, his face tinged with grief, as if sad she was going. "I'm alright. May I walk you up to make sure you get in safe?"

She nodded and got out, her stomach in knots. He slipped out behind her. She started to step over the shin-high pile of snow on the curb, bracing for the cold snow to cover her sandaled feet when he scooped her up. A soft grunt of pain escaped him. "No-" she started to protest.

"It's alright," he said through gritted teeth. "I just moved too fast and pulled the butterfly tape." He stepped through the snow, getting his own pants and shoes wet.

"Why do you have to be so sweet?" she whispered with a broken heart and wrapped her arms around his neck to hopefully ease the weight from his side. He didn't say anything. "Set me down," she said softly when he stepped onto the shoveled sidewalk so he wouldn't hurt his side worse.

He did but didn't step away. Emotional pain radiated from him, and his eye remained downcast. "Let's get you inside." His voice rang hollow.

She led him up the steps, aching for him to offer his arm or set his hand on the small of her back like he used to. The intimacy with him had died. Because she'd killed it. And she grieved for it.

She nibbled her lip as she led him down the hall on the second floor. Too many secrets held them apart, and too much love held them together. He couldn't go yet. She stopped at her door and turned to him. His beautiful eye searched her face, his look as torn apart as her insides. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to call you." Her voice carried no stronger than a whisper.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, tenderness softening his face. "What you've always called me. My given name had to die with my previous life." His voice fell to a deep, husky tone that wrapped its warmth around her. His knuckles brushed her cheek in a caress so delicate it could have been the whisper of the wind. Her eyes closed as her knees weakened. "For your voice, I would answer to any name," he whispered. It wasn't his words but the raw love and honestly and pain behind them that made her heart stumble. "I'll always love you." He brushed a tender kiss over her lips. Then his heat pulled away and his touch disappeared.

She opened her eyes. He was walking away down the hall. Her heart slammed. He couldn't go. This couldn't be it. "Jason!" She ran after him.

He stopped and turned, his expression confused and surprised and heartbroken all at once.

Stopping before him, she looked up, at a loss for words. Biting her lip, she took a deep breath and jumped. "Don't go. Please." Tears blurred her vision. "I don't know where to go from here or what to think or what to do. I just know I still love you." Her face crumpled and the tears fell.

His brow wrinkled with grief and his lips pressed together as tears shimmered in his eye. "I can't give you anything. I had thought maybe in time that..." But he looked away.

A shakey breath escaped her. Hollowness engulfed her heart. This was his chance to catch her after she'd jumped. And he wasn't going to. He was going to let her fall. But she would break and never be able to put the pieces back together. But this is exactly what she'd done to him a month ago. "I shouldn't have run," she whispered.

His eye lifted to hers. "I understand why you did. And it was the best thing for you."

Her face crumpled. "I know I broke your heart." Her voice cracked. His head bowed trying to hold back tears. "I don't deserve to ask you not to do the same, but I don't want you to go." Her tears ran down.

Lifting his head, his brow furrowed as a tear fell from his lashes. "No matter what you do, I would never try to cause you pain." He swallowed hard. "It's late and we're too tired to say anything rationale tonight. I can come tomorrow and talk."

She brushed at her eyes and had to look away. There had been a time when he would've kissed away the tears. And she had made him pull away, had made him rebuild the walls he'd let her break down. Her face crumpled again at the memory of his incredible tenderness that she'd thrown back in his face.

"Please, don't cry," he begged, his voice breaking. "It breaks my heart to see you so sad."

She sniffled and wiped away fresh tears. "Do you and Pete want to crash in the living room? I have a recliner and sofa." She held her breath.

His eye searched hers. "Are you certain? It's not that long of a drive home."

He was staying out of guilt for upsetting her, but at least he was staying. At least there'd be a chance to see if there was anything left to be saved. "It's three hours. You'd get home at three thirty." She walked back to her door and pulled her keys out of her purse. Her hands shook a bit. It might be the last night she'd see him, if he didn't leave during the night.

His hands captured hers and steadied them. "I won't leave."

Looking up at him, a wave of relief rolled over her. He'd stay until they could talk tomorrow. How did he know that's why she was scared?

When she unlocked it, she held the knob for a moment and looked over her shoulder. "It's kinda small." She should've gotten the two bedroom unit, but that was expensive and more room than she needed. Prince scratched at the door.

He shook his head. "It's alright."

She opened the door and Prince's tail took off at a thousand miles a minute. He shoved right past her to Jason, who knelt with a smile and scratched the dog's ears.

"Hello, there." He smiled and didn't seem to mind Prince licking his neck. Prince whined and rubbed himself all over Jason's black dress pants. Jason didn't seem to care one bit and actually bear hugged the hairy mutt. Then he glanced up and caught her watching. He cracked a smile and stood. "Sometimes I leave a sock on the floor to pretend he's around." He shrugged.

He missed Prince? The man who complained all the time about the dog hair and missing socks? She smiled and held her breath as he took in the apartment.

The kitchen and living room were one room, a bit cramped with an old sofa and recliner from Andy, plus her and Jason standing in the room. An old tube TV sat on a used wood stand. The bedroom was only a few feet past the kitchen. Her old twin bed from her mom's house filled nearly the entire room.

"It's nice. My mother had a place like this right before I got her the house." His eye scanned the room. He seemed to genuinely like it, but he looked at her with a furrowed brow. "I don't mean any offense." He held up a hand. "It's just that this is quite different from your old apartment. Are you doing alright with finances?"

She looked away. This place was half the size and the furniture about a decade older.

"There's nothing wrong with your place...I want to make sure you're doing alright." He looked worried.

Setting down her purse on the kitchen counter, she kept her back to him. "Yeah, it's fine. There's just no need for a big place." He didn't need to know the only job she could find in this town was waitressing at a bar. Or that most of the money from selling the Thunderbird had gone to getting a lawyer for the upcoming trial with Gaston. Or that her mom didn't know about her money problems and had needed to borrow a little until the settlement money came through.

"I'll take you to pick up your car in the morning."

She turned to face him, took off his suit jacket, and handed it back to him. "The town is so small that there's not really a need to have a car. Kinda nice." She pasted on a smile.

His eye narrowed. "Emma-"

"We should let Pete know you guys are staying," she cut in.

He gave her a long look but let it drop for now. Pulling out his cell from his pocket, he frowned at his phone. "I'm not getting a signal. Do you have a landline I can use?"

She hesitated. He took a step toward the door before she had to admit she couldn't afford one. "I'll just step in the hall."

"If you go down at this end by the window-" she blurted and then stopped. Her face burned. "I mean..."

He frowned severely and pointed at the apartment. "We're talking about this in the morning." Then he stepped out and closed the door.

She dropped her head on her arms on the counter.

The door opened a moment later and Prince barked. Jason stepped in, and the dog jumped up on him, wrapping his paws around Jason's sides in excitement that he returned.

"No!" she yelled. But it was too late.

Jason cried out and pushed Prince off, clutching his side. He leaned a hand on his knee and breathed deep as she ran over.

"Did he rip it open?" She set a hand on his back. Prince whined and tried to lick Jason's face. She pushed Prince back.

"His nail caught in the wound and pulled it open. I need to use your restroom," he said through gritted teeth and slowly straightened.

Without even thinking about it, she unzipped the coat and pulled it off his bare torso. Blood soaked the bandage on his side. "Oh god. I think you need stitches."

"Let me check it. It might just be a bleeder. I just had a SEAL physical last week and can show you I don't have any blood borne pathogens." He went into the bathroom, slightly hunched over.

She almost laughed that he thought to tell her not to worry about disease while in the middle of a mini hemorrhage. So like a doctor. Then she squeezed into the bathroom behind him. "You need help," she said when he frowned. After he washed his hands, she washed hers too.

He pulled off the bandage almost as big as his hand. The wound was split open and bled heavily.

"This needs stitches, Jason. You refused them from the paramedic, didn't you?"

"It's only four inches long, and I don't want to be sitting in ER all night. It's getting too old to stitch anyways."

Digging out the first-aid kit, she set some gauze bandages on the counter. "You're going to get an infection. I'll ask Pete to run to the 24-hour pharmacy down the road."

"He has a friend in town and took the car to spend the night there. And you're not going out in the middle of the night."

She reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Unlock it. I need him to get supplies or take us to the hospital."

"Calm down. It's not an artery gushing. Do you have bandage tape?" He repocketed his cell.

"Yeah." She dug it out. "You shouldn't carry your cell in your pocket. It's thought to cause reproductive cancers," she commented absently.

"Remind me when I'm not distracted, Emma." He dumped the soaked bandage in the trash. "I gotta borrow your shower. I'll clean it afterwards."

"The shower?"

He kicked off his shoes. "It looks like the medic didn't get all the dirt out. Do you have a Ziploc bag? Fill it with a few ice cubes and as much cold water as you can."

She did and returned. He stood barefoot in the shower with blood trickling down his right side just above his hip.

"Don't faint on me."

"My adrenaline is kinda going watching you hemorrhage. What should I do with this water bag?" She eyed the wound. He was losing a fair amount of blood.

"Cut a tiny hole in the corner. It'll pressure rinse the wound. Are you alright to do it? It's on my blind side, so I can't see it too well." He didn't seem worried at all about the blood loss. His calmness kept her panic at bay.

"Yeah." She snipped the tip and squeezed the bag at his cut. A small stream of water shot out, flushing away the bits of debris. And soaking his pants with water and blood. The bag emptied, and she looked up at him to see what's next.

"Good." He slipped the bag from her hands and held the ice bag to his side. "Can you hand me two gauze pads?" She opened two fresh ones. He lined them up along the wound and applied hard pressure, groaning under his breath. "Alright, we're going to make butterfly bandages."

She made four out of tape under his guidance and then grabbed a fresh gauze with rubbing alcohol to clean his skin around the wound. Then he held the skin together while she applied the bandages. Stepping back, she surveyed their handiwork as he let go.

He smiled, looking down at his side. "It's holding. You're a regular army nurse."

When he looked at her, she flushed with a shy smile and started cleaning up. "Do you want to shower while you're in there?" She turned her back to him and swept the bandage wrappers off the counter and into the trashcan.

"If you don't mind being I got blood all over. I'll scrub down the shower for you then."

She shook her head. "It's fine." When she turned around, he held out his phone to her. She looked at the screen and frowned. He had logged into a medical center site and brought up negative lab results for any kind of blood and STD test imaginable. "Jason-" She handed the phone back.

He shook his head. "I want you to trust me again, and I'll give proof of my word until then."

Her heart twisted. "Jason, I don't need to see a medical history. I trust you. But thank you." He didn't say anything as he pocketed his cell, even though it looked like he wanted to say a thousand things.

She made up the sofa, tucking a sheet on the cushions to soften the rough, worn material for him while he showered.

He peeked around the bathroom door a minute later as she finished, his muscled torso glistening deliciously damp in the living room lamp light. "Would you mind helping replace the strips? They're falling off from being wet. I made new ones, but the cut is too far on my blind side to see it well."

A soft smile touched her lips that he for once wasn't ashamed about needing a hand with his disability. "Of course." She walked over to see a yellow towel tied around his waist.

"I didn't think about it that I don't have clothes," he said in embarrassment.

Heat flooded between her thighs, and she couldn't not notice the slight bulge between his legs. His calves had more muscle than expected. Every line of him was carved out of hard muscle. The sight of him damp and in a towel made her pulse quicken. Even the scar on his shoulder seemed rugged and sexy. "Jesus," she whispered. No human should be allowed to look like this.

He must've heard because he turned his shoulder out of view, shame staining his cheeks.

"No. God, no. You're perfect," she practically purred. She shouldn't, but she slipped between him and the counter, still hypnotized. Her fingers skimmed over his hard pectoral muscle and down the slight washboard of his stomach. He had perfectly bulging muscles without being too much. "How much do you workout?"

He tensed a little, obviously still self-conscious about his burns. "Not as much as I should for SEALS, but I don't really have to follow the full guidelines being I'm considered retired due to my eye. I just need to be able to meet certain strength and endurance requirements."

She looked up at him. "What are they?" Her hand rested on his chest. Sweet heaven, even with his burns he could be a model.

"Five hundred-yard swim in eight minutes, eighty push-ups, eighty sit-ups, fifteen pull-ups, and a mile-and-a-half run in under ten minutes are considered competitive standards. And be able to carry sixty pounds of gear."

Her eyebrows shot up. "And I imagine you meet the standards even though you don't need to." He gave a mischevious smile. "What are these mountain rescues you said you do?"

"Mostly wall climbs if people fall from cliffs into crevices and such. One time a child fell off a cliff, but we couldn't get rescue equiptment to him. It was really dangerous and stupid, but the only option was to strap him in a gurney and tie him to me to climb out of the crevice he'd fallen in. A couple times were water rescues for people whose fishing boat motors died in the middle of a large lake."

She frowned on confusion. "Do you take oars out to them or something?"

He shook his head. "Too hard if the oar slots aren't built in. Paddling takes a long time and is hard with a fishing boat. I probably should get a boat and keep it out there." She looked at him in confusion. "One time a guy was having a heart attack, and we couldn't get the chopper close enough. So, we made a strap and I towed him and his son in. I was sore for about three days after that, but the man survived it." His eye lit up for a minute. "You probably would've loved it with your medical writing." He smiled. "He went into cardiac arrest. Stevens and I loaded him on the chopper. I have an AED in the chopper and spent ten minutes between shocks and compressions trying to keep him alive. The most exciting emergencies are when the proper equipment isn't there. Like in the battlefield." Then he seemed to remember himself and stopped talking.

"No, don't stop. You've never been so animated like that."

He shook his head. "We should get you to bed." He pulled off a wet butterfly strip and held the wound together while she knelt and placed a new strip. He was silent for a moment. "Emma, I'm so sorry about cussing and ripping your head off earlier. I don't think I've ever been that terrified, having you so close to danger."

She glanced up. He looked guilt stricken. "It's alright." A smile tugged at her lips. The dear man had hardly done anything wrong, yet he looked like his conscience ate him alive. Her gaze returned to fixing him up. "It was really stupid to run out there like that. But I think you tried to get me a little riled up on purpose so I wouldn't be scared." She glanced at him with a smile tugging at her lips.

He blushed at being caught.

She laughed and placed the last strip, pecking a kiss over his side without thinking. Then she flushed and diverted her eyes. She didn't have a right to be so familiar with him. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"I don't mind." His voice vibrated low and husky, awakening the butterflies in her stomach. When he slipped his hand in hers, she looked up at his smoldering gaze. He didn't say anything, but his look said it all. Her heart beat faster.

"I made up the sofa," she croaked and stepped back, dropping his hand. She cleared her throat. Her heart yearned for him, yet her head whispered doubts.

The look in his eye faded, replaced with subtle sadness. "Thank you."

She had to stop giving him whiplash like this. A good night's sleep would give better perspective in the morning. "Do these pants need to be dry cleaned? Otherwise, I can throw them in the washer." She turned to see them hanging over the shower curtain rod.

"I saw the detergent on the shelf under the sink and took the liberty of using it already."

Nibbling her lip, she turned back to him. It didn't feel right to go to bed with things strained like this, but it was too late to get into any real conversation anymore tonight.

"I'll step out so you can get ready for bed." He left and shut the door.

She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Everything was such a mess. With a sigh, she got in the shower to clean up from their jaunt through the woods.

While drying off, she froze and looked at the counter. Oh great, she hadn't brought in her nightclothes. She closed her eyes. Lovely. It meant asking him to dig through her nightgown and panties drawer or running out in a towel. Wrapping the towel around herself tight, she cracked open the door. "Jason?"

"Yes?"

"I forgot to bring in my clothes. Can you turn around?"

"Yes, b-"

She darted out, holding her towel around her tight with her eyes on the living room to her right. Huh, the sofa was empty. She smacked into something warm and hard, practically bouncing off it as she passed the kitchen. It was Jason.

"Whoa!" Jason's hands flew out to catch her.

She grabbed the first thing her hand brushed to catch herself—his towel. And ripped it right off him at the same instant he caught her arm. She froze and looked down at her hand, trying to comprehend what had happened. And she got a clear view of him in the background. Oh god, he was naked. "Sorry!" She flung the towel at him and darted into the bedroom, her face on fire. Slamming the door, she leaned against it and buried her face in her hands. He definitely hadn't been burned below the waist.

She paced in the tiny bedroom. Time to suck it up and go out there and apologize. She stepped out in her nightgown and robe. He was propped up on the sofa with the sheet draped under him and over his hips, along with a blanket covering his mid-torso on down. His left side faced her, with an arm tucked behind his head on the pillow. He stared at the dark kitchen. He sat up a little and his legs bent at the knees a bit to fit on the short couch. The poor man looked cramped. Maybe ignoring the big white elephant in the room would be best. "We can trade and I'll take the sofa. You're too tall for the sofa."

He startled, as if having been lost in thought, and dropped his arm. "No." He frowned. "It's your home and you're the lady. Besides, I've slept on worse than a sofa when in the Middle East." He paused and his face flushed. "My apologies for what happened. I was going to say that I was in the kitchen getting water and needed to slip out to make room for you to cut through."

Closing her eyes for a moment, all the blood rushed to her face. "I'm so sorry. I was flustered and just rushed out before you finished speaking. I didn't mean to grab the towel." She covered her burning cheeks.

He bit back a smile, his face red too. "I know it was an accident."

"You look so embarrassed." She started smiling. "I'm not smiling. I mean, I am, but I do that when I'm embarrassed that I did something stupid. I didn't really see anything...okay, I did," she rushed out. Then she buried her face in her hands. Was it possible to burst into flames from being so embarrassed?

A deep chuckle filled the room. "Emma, it's alright. I saw plenty of naked people at the hospital, I'm just not used to being on the other side of it. I'm embarrassed mainly because you're embarrassed."

"I'm going to bed," she mumbled and skittered into her room. Shutting the door, she fanned her face with her hand. Sweet heaven, he'd be laying on her sofa. All night. Naked and delicious. And so obviously still in love with her.


	5. Chapter 5

The clock's face glowed half past one o'clock. She rolled onto her back and stared at the dark ceiling. It'd been ten minutes since she'd left him in the living room. She couldn't sleep with things so unsettled between them like this. But he'd said they'd discuss things in the morning when better rested. Did he really want to wait, or did he just say so she didn't feel pressured,? Or did he hope things would be clearer for both of them tomorrow? Her heart stopped. Did he need the night to think things through in hopes he'd come to realize he didn't love her? She rolled onto her side and nibbled a nail. Maybe he was emotional from the shootout and adrenaline was flowing and he said things he didn't mean. Oh god. What if he didn't mean that he loved her? What if he'd started seeing someone? Or maybe he'd rediscovered bachelor life and didn't want to be tied down. The storm inside began to swell, the dark clouds rolling and building. She flopped onto her back again in complete misery. Finally, she got up.

Tiptoeing through the darkness into the living room, she crept toward the couch. The only light came from the street lamp outside, barely outlining silhouettes. "Jason?" she whispered. Nothing. She made it over to the couch and reached out, brushing his bare arm.

A large hand clamped down on her wrist and a hard body suddenly pounced, pinning her to the floor. She squeaked in surprise more than fright.

"Emma?" He instantly released her and rolled off. Then his hand brushed hers and pulled her to her feet. "My apologies. I was half asleep and didn't hear you come out."

She stood and twisted her nightgown back into place. "Not a good idea to wake a SEAL by surprise, I guess." She nibbled her lip as uncertainty about coming out here to him began to surface.

"At least stand back to wake me if I don't expect you there. I took off the mask; otherwise, I'd turn on the light. What's wrong?" Worry wove through his voice.

The poor man had been sleeping. The gray clouds pulled her in deeper and deeper until she couldn't see the beacon in the storm. She should wait until morning to talk. "Nothing. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." She turned.

"Emma."

The soft plea stopped her in her tracks.

"Please, talk to me. I know you need closure to move on. I don't know how to give that to you. The selfish part of me doesn't want to give it because I don't want you to move on."

The pain in his voice brought tears to her eyes. He still thought she wanted to leave, and yet he stayed the night expecting his heart to be crushed by morning. A man like him wouldn't come around again in a hundred years. But fear to trust him again held her back. She sniffled and shifted her weight. The floor creaked.

"No." He darted over and his strong arms wrapped around her from behind, as if staying her from leaving. The length of his naked body pressed against her backside. Heat burned through the thin nightgown. His left cheek pressed against her right one as he cradled her.

Her eyes rolled back and her hands wrapped around his arms. She sagged against him. This intimacy. It brought back memories of the times he'd been without the mask. Of times when the deception hadn't existed in her world. This closeness is what she missed so desperately. A tear glided down her face. Oh god, this safety. Feeling this safe had disappeared with him. The nightmares of Gaston had returned this past month, growing more and more vivid the closer the trial drew. Jason was no longer there anymore to save her from the monsters who waited at night; from the storm that threatened to drown her.

"Please," he whispered. "Don't go."

"I wasn't leaving," she breathed. She reached up with her right hand to hold his burned shoulder. His touch ached bittersweet. "Hold me. It's been so long since you've held me," she begged.

His arms tightened around her, and he brushed a kiss over her neck. "I shouldn't have hidden the truth, but I didn't lie about anything. I wanted to protect you. Don't ever fear me." He kissed her shoulder.

She turned in his arms and stroked the left side of his face, absorbing the contours of his square jaw and light scratch of stubble against her palm. His breath caressed her lips. She whispered, "I was so scared that I didn't really know you. I didn't understand why you were angry." She sniffled and her face crumpled. "Before, my mind always turned you into Gaston. But that night, you didn't change." Her voice cracked. "That night it was you I feared. I'm still scared but not like that anymore. I don't know what to think."

"Don't be scared," he whispered and kissed away the tears. "I realized how terrified you were when you screamed 'no.' I'm sorry. Did I hurt you that night?" She shook her head. "Emma, I understand I'm a large man and it wouldn't take much to seriously hurt you. I hope you know that I was so angry I would've hurt you that night _if I was ever going to_. I would never hurt you. And do not ever, ever fear I would force you. Have you ever been afraid I'd rape you?"

She shook her head.

He kissed her forehead. "I promise you that I will never physically harm you. That is a vow I will never break. My strength is for protecting you, to be your safe haven." His fingertips stroked her cheek. "I love you."

Leaning into his touch, she closed her eyes. "I love you," she breathed. He began to harden against her hip, but he didn't make any advancement, almost as if not even aware of it. His fingers glided down her cheek and over her jaw, as if memorizing the exact shape of her face. Then his thumb grazed over her lips. "Kiss me, Jason."

He stilled. "I can't," he whispered, with pain and humiliation straining his voice. "I don't have the bridge yet...I have to use a specially made gauze to absorb..." He drew a deep breath. "It would be so unpleasant for both of us."

She cupped his cheek. "Never think I find anything about your scars unpleasant." She raised onto her toes, needing to lean against his chest to balance, and her thigh brushed his arousal. Her lips kissed the good side of his neck, and his hands grabbed fistfuls of her nightgown at her back. "I wish you could make love to me," she breathed. His breathing grew ragged and his hips pressed against her. "Throw me down on the sofa and claim me." A soft moan escaped him. "Climb on top of me and make my fears die."

"Oh god, Emma," he gasped and cupped her bottom and held her against him, his hips rocking.

He spun her around to the sofa and tossed her down in the blink of an eye. She smiled and bit her lip. His weight settled on her, his erection pressed hard between her legs through the nightgown. "Don't fear me," he breathed.

He replaced himself with his hand. She gasped and arched into him in surprise, clutching his shoulders as her head fell back. The thin nightgown and panties didn't dull each brush of his fingers, almost as if no barrier existed. His gentle stroking. His kisses caressing the pulse of her neck. Heat pooling. Butterflies fluttering in her belly. Waves of pleasure lapping. Her lips parted in wonder at the pleasures he created.

"Emma, I can feel how wet you are," he whispered. "I want to slide my fingers in and feel you tighten around me with pleasure." His fingertips wiggled and tapped over the sensitive folds.

She gasped at the rush of desire. "Oh god, Jason." Her head fell back and her hands fisted on his shoulders, scratching his back a bit. Biting her lip, she arched against him, needing to burn out the fire beginning to lap. He stroked with wonderful pressure. She panted and wrapped her legs around his thick calves. "Yes," she whimpered and grabbed his hard bottom out of instinct to pull him close, encountering the sheet he must've pulled over himself.

"How can you desire me this much?" he whispered in awe.

"Because I love you," she panted and grabbed his biceps as her body began to coil and her hips rocked with his hand. She writhed in pleasure under him. "Jay," she whimpered and pulled him down on her. The pressure of his hard erection between her legs brought on a fever, an almost frenzy for release. Rolling her hips, she stroked along the length of him. Her breasts tightened with pleasure.

He pulled away, but replaced himself with his hand and rubbed. "Not when you're still nervous to trust me. Not when you still don't know how you feel." Then he nuzzled her neck, continuing her pleasure.

The words dropped like a freezing bucket of ice, and she stilled. Something in his tone squashed the pleasure. Pushing on his chest, she sat up when he sat back. "What?"

"You might regret it in the morning even though we aren't going to have sex." He sounded hurt and a bit angry.

She pressed her lips together. "Yes, I shouldn't be climbing all over every man I meet." Then she shoved herself up off the sofa.

"That is not what I said or implied, Emma," he snapped.

The darkness of the storm in her heart surrounded, severing her from the world. She spun around and flung out her arms. "No one forced you to stay! I asked you because I want to see if there's a way to rebuild what was there!" Then she stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door, flipping on the light to keep him out.

Five seconds later, the door whipped open, and his arm reached around the wall and flipped off the light. "Don't ever do that." His voice growled low and bordering on angry. "I don't use my strength against you; don't use your sight against me." Then his footsteps padded closer. Warm hands clasped around her upper arms, as if trying to find her in the dark. Then he released her right arm. He turned her slightly to press her back against the wall. His left hand leaned against the wall under her shoulder, and his other hand glided up to rest on her shoulder. "Do not bolt. That man with you tonight, are you seeing him?" His warm breath brushed her cheek.

She blinked. When had the conversation taken the turn from them to this? "The one at the club? No." She frowned. "I met him tonight. Why?"

"Are you seeing anyone?" The length of his body leaned against her, the fluffiness of his towel back on him pressed against her hips.

"No." Her heart beat faster. Every sense zeroed in on him, struggling to find him through the raging storm inside of crashing waves and flashing lightning tearing her apart. His heart beat harder against her breast. His breaths puffed slightly faster. The very faint outline of his silhouette took shape as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. His earthy scent, still slightly damp from a shower, filled the room. "Are you?"

"Only you," he whispered, his soft lips swept over hers for the moment of a heartbeat. Then his hand skimmed down her shoulder, down her arm, and his fingers interlaced with hers. His other hand rested against her shoulder blade. "Dance with me," he whispered.

Her soft laugh jingled through the darkness. "There's no room. Besides, we're in the middle of a fight."

"Then we make room," he replied, his voice husky and calm. "This arguing is going nowhere. We put it on pause." He stepped closer, rested his hands on her hips, and set hers on his sides away from the wound. His weight shifted, and the clock radio turned on. The dial glided until it found a slow, romantic song to stop on. Then his hand returned to her hip.

Swaying steps. A gentle jazz serenade fell in sync with the beat of her heart. His tender touch. The storm raging inside began to calm. A beacon of light glowed in the distance. It led to him. But the distance to him was so vast and great. How would she ever reach him? She rested her cheek on his warm chest as they danced in a small circle.

His arms wrapped around her. "I missed you," he whispered. Her eyes closed. "I miss seeing you at the desk with pencils twisted up in your hair, and the way you bite your lip when you're worrying about something. I miss your laughter ringing through the house, and the way everyone was always smiling. No one smiles at home anymore, Emma. I lock myself up in my study to avoid not seeing you around the house."

She swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry for everything." Pain vibrated through him to her. Deep, crippling pain. "I'm sorry I taught you to fear me so much that you hid from me." His voice grew thick. "I can feel how conflicted and frightened you are, afraid I'll betray you again; how you cling to the good memories to force yourself to be here right now. Never will I be able to express the depth of my pain and regret for losing you."

Never had he opened up like this. He laid his heart at her feet, and still an inkling of fear crept up in this world of secrets he lived in. "I don't know what's truth from you, or what is twisted into truth. I want to trust you." She swallowed hard. A wave of profound grief radiated from him, a hopelessness as if everything had been lost. "Tell me what you're thinking."

He slowly let go. "I'm not helping you get a clear head-"

"No, you're thinking something." He seemed afraid that in the morning she'd send him away for good. But he would never voice it and make her feel guilty. She nibbled her lip. He had to know some kind of magical words that might erase all the pain and damage. He had been her knight once, rescuing her from any pain imaginable. He would know how to rescue them from this.

"Good night, Emma." His voice overflowed with grief as his hand captured hers in the darkness. He bowed slightly and his lips brushed over her knuckles and held there. With a broken heart, he breathed, "For what it's worth, I'll always be deeply sorry."


	6. Chapter 6

Walking out of the bedroom at seven o'clock the next morning, she held her pounding head. Staying up until two o'clock in the morning wasn't such a good idea. She headed for the bathroom and stopped dead in her tracks.

The blanket and sheet on the sofa had been folded and set on the cushion. A note lay on top. Prince had uncharacteristically broken the furniture rule—he laid on the sofa with his head on the blankets. The poor dog whimpered and looked at her with mournful big brown eyes. Jason had left.

Her heart dropped, the hopes that he'd not wanted to sever things fell and shattered around her feet. Another deceitful tale that he'd stay until morning. In a shocked daze, she walked over and picked up the note to read his elegant scrawl.

 _I tried but couldn't. I left at six o'clock. If I'd stayed, I would've fallen apart on you, Emma. Forgive me for once again breaking your trust when I said I wouldn't go._

 _It must sound like a lie after all of this, but I love you. I hope one day you'll look back and understand I did this because I love you, because it's what's best for you. You'll always have my heart._

 _Jason_

Her hands shook and tears blurred the note. He was gone. Why didn't he fight for her? He'd so readily given up. She deserved to hear the words, not read his goodbye in some goddamn note. If he wasn't going to fight for them, to see if it was worth a second chance, she'd fight. Rushing into the bedroom, she threw on jeans and a red sweater and then grabbed her cell. Prince jumped up and ran with her to the door. "Stay." She shut the door and ran down the hall to the window. Then she dialed Jason's cell.

She turned to look out the window just in case he was somehow outside on the sidewalk. He'd be almost half way back home by now, though. Holding her breath, she bit her lip when the ringing stopped halfway through.

"Emma?"

The anger and urgency died when his voice answered. The pain rose up, and her face crumpled. "You said I could trust you." A tear fell from her lashes.

His response didn't register when several heavy footsteps clunked up the stairwell behind her. She spun around. Several men in black suits and sunglasses came up. Backing up, her heart slammed. More crooked FBI? The phone rang dead in her ear from being disconnected. Fear paralyzed her for a moment. Then she tore down the hall for her apartment. A set of footsteps thundered behind. She whipped open the door and Prince barked as an arm reached through. Prince jumped up and grabbed the sleeve, snarling and ready to rip the arm off.

The door suddenly shoved open, and she fell back. Prince leapt in front of her, his hair standing on end on his back. His tongue flicked over his nose over and over as he snarled, anxious for blood. She backed up toward the bedroom, snatching a knife from the kitchen counter.

"FBI," one of the large men said.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before. Get out. Now." It would've sounded more formidable if her voice hadn't quivered.

The man took a step, and Prince darted forward, clamping down on his ankle for a split second. The man yelped and leapt back. Prince barked and snarled ferociously.

A fifth man darted into the apartment wearing a black FBI jacket, hood, and ski mask. He shoved between the four men clustered in the hall. Prince made no move to stop him. He darted between her and the men and held up his hands to the men. Prince's snarl calmed to a fierce growl. "Back off or he'll rip your throats out."

She blinked. This man sounded like Jason.

He turned, the hood pulled up to shadow the right eye hole of the ski mask. Gauze covered that side of the mouth hole. His left eye boasted a bruise dark enough to almost match the black ski mask. But that blue eye was unmistakable. "I got a call saying they were coming, so I came back as fast as I could. It's alright, they're legitimate. A bit barbaric in their ways." He threw them a dark look over his shoulder. Then he knelt down to Prince and slowly held out a hand. "Easy, boy. It's alright." He stroked Prince's head, and the dog seemed to calm a bit. "Good boy," he soothed.

"What...?" Her heart still thundered. Why did four FBI agents stand in her apartment? Why had Jason needed to come back because of it?

He stood and met her eyes with regret. "Emma, because of what happened yesterday, they're putting you into witness protection for a couple weeks."

* * *

She sat on the sofa, with Jason sitting on the edge of the cushion a few feet to her right. He seemed calm and...purely professional, purely emotionally unattached. The agents stood around the room, eyeing Prince, who sat at her feet with his teeth still smiling brightly at these strange men.

"You'll tell your mother you're going on a trip for a couple weeks. We expect to have the mole figured out by then. There will not be any phone calls with your cell," one of the agents ordered. He handed her a cell. "This is a burner phone. It's untraceable."

She took it and looked at Jason. "It looks like your cell."

He slowly nodded.

"How do I know one of you aren't the mole?" She cocked an eyebrow.

One of the men slowly pulled off his sunglasses and glared, looking ready to throw a punch.

Jason held up a hand to him and looked at her, leaning his elbows on his knees. His voice rang calm and professional, a hint of the tough unemotional SEAL coming out. Maybe he had as much trouble pretending it didn't hurt to be around her as she did around him. "The less you know, the better. But these men are trustworthy." He seemed to hesitate. "I've been working with them for nearly four years."

She looked him straight in the eye, dropping her voice for privacy. "And I'm supposed to trust your sayso?"

He stood and offered his hand. "Ms. Hoplin and I need a minute, gentlemen."

For the sake of not insulting him in front of whoever these men were, she took his hand. But she immediately dropped it as soon as she stood, and then led him to the bedroom.

When he stepped in, he shut the door.

She turned to him and folded her arms over her chest. "I'm not asking to be bitchy."

He frowned. "I didn't think you were."

The pain slipped out from under its lock and key. She wrapped her arms around herself and searched his guarded face. "I'm not a stupid dog who is going to keep coming back asking to be hit again." Her voice cracked and tears welled. "I didn't think you were like this. I used to admire your compassion." The tears ran down her face. "I don't understand when you started lying about caring for me or if you ever really did care."

Tears shimmered in his eye and he shook his head. "I never lied about that."

"Yesterday I threw myself at you wanting to see if we can fix this." Her voice broke. "You didn't fight for me—you walked out that door without a word. What am I supposed to think other than you either don't want me or it's a vendetta for when I left you." She sniffled and sought the answer in his face.

Tears glistened in his eye. He leaned his head back as if to look to the heavens for strength and set a hand on his hip. His other covered his mouth for a moment. Then he looked at her, his voice thick with emotion as he laid a hand over his chest. "I left because I broke your trust beyond repair. If I'd stayed, I would have agreed to counseling or dating or marriage...hell, even trying to get you pregnant right then if you'd asked. I would've been desperate to make you stay. But in a few months or a couple years, you'd resent me. I cannot undo the damage I've done, Emma. You would always have a nagging doubt wondering if I was telling you the full truth."

Pressing her lips together, she shook her head and held back the tears. "There are couples who can get past adultery. You said last night you'd prove your word until I can trust you again."

"What kind of a foundation would that be?" he asked softly. He reached out to brush away the tears.

She stepped back out of his reach and wrapped her arms around herself tight. He didn't want to fight for her. And she wouldn't beg him. A man who wanted her wouldn't need to be convinced. How could she have been so gullible? So stupid?

"Emma," he pleaded. "I need to tell you—"

Shaking her head, she walked out and composed herself as much as possible while going the short distance to the living room. She just wanted to get away. Two weeks of solitude would be a welcomed distraction to get over this heartbreak.

Jason's quick footsteps creaked down the hall a moment later. "Emma—"

She threw her shoulders back and faced the men, ignoring Jason. "Where am I being sent to?"

One of the men looked at her. "Dr. Port's home in Colorado."

* * *

Jason sat in the backseat of his car with her a couple hours later. His gaze burned the back of her head with its intensity.

Prince laid belted in the middle seat, stretched out fast asleep across her lap. She stroked his silky side to help lower her sky-high blood pressure as she stared out her window.

"Emma—"

"I'm still not speaking to you," she ground out between her teeth.

"I told you I didn't know about this until I got the call this morning." He seemed calm.

"And I told you I am passing these fourteen days in my room. There is no need for us to have any conversation." Oh how she wanted to throw something. Cold indifference helped to hide the pain. It would be painful being at his home with the memories and Trudy and Pete. But the most painful part would be knowing he was around but avoiding her at all costs, that he didn't love her like she'd come to believe. Like she'd come to love him.

He sounded angry. "Come off it, Emma. Did it occur to you that maybe I got wind of this today and _tried_ to pull strings when I came back?"

She snorted. "Apparently even your pockets aren't deep enough to persuade the government to grant your whims."

"The government did. For a fourteen million dollar grant to them," he said, a husky quality in his voice.

Her head whipped to him with wide eyes. She couldn't have heard him right.

He met her gaze. "A million a night was the deal. I realized the mistake I'd made when I left this morning, but then I got a call from my inside man about you going into witness protection." His look grew in intensity. "You advocated in the bedroom this morning for trying to make things work. When you didn't seem overjoyed I'd left, I only had to hit 'Send' on my phone to complete the deal with the government. This is a chance to see if we can fix things."

Her eyes narrowed. "A chance you got to buy me, you mean," she corrected.

His gaze didn't waiver. Rather, a slight arrogance exuded from him. His voice rumbled low with a hint of seduction. "Call it what you will. You and I both know you're the one thing I can't buy."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: New reviewers! New readers! 23 reviews by Ch 7! I'm so excited! :) Thanks for the reviews since the last couple chapters, YazminXD, Pichon, bffli101, Caroltrivilini, Callico11852, Morganstern15, and Abi-Cadabby.**

 **Yes, Morganstern15, I'll resume the Silvermist story after B &B. (Background for non-Tink readers: my romance writing club of published authors tore one of my manuscripts apart, so I tried writing a short fanfic based on how they said a 'real' author should write. I felt like it killed my writing, and writing became a dreaded chore. I stopped the story half way through and started B&B to find my own style again. I feel like I've found it, like the words come to life again with these B&B stories. The hell with how an author 'should' write! Some of the best authors are the ones who were the outcasts!)**

 **Here is a short chapter to get some of you through your finals, as requested. :)**

* * *

It probably should have been flattering that he thought her worth a million dollars a day...but it hurt that he didn't seem to have qualms about 'purchasing' her. She looked out her window and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cheap and dirty. "What all did you expect to get for that much money?"

"It bought your location, nothing more. There are no strings attached beyond you staying at my home where you can be kept safe." His voice rang smooth and calm, seeming unaware of her turmoil. His hand eased into hers in her lap.

She pulled her hand away, keeping her eyes focused out the window. A tear rolled down her cheek. "I will not be your whore."

He remained silent for a moment and withdrew his hand. "Do you think I would do that to you?" The hurt stained his voice.

"I don't know anymore. Why else would such an outrageous price be paid?" In the back of her head, a voice whispered that lack of sleep and stress the past twenty four hours made her emotional and irrational. Prince raised his head and licked her cheek. She cradled him and rested her cheek atop his head to stare out the window as the tears rolled into his fur. She soaked up Prince's love, desperately needing it to ease the pain.

"Emma," Jason said, his voice gentle. "The other option is for you to go where no one knows, where you know no one. There'd be nobody if you needed help. I only told you about the money so you didn't hear it from someone else first. If you honestly don't want me around, I can arrange to be out of town for a couple weeks."

She considered his words for several minutes as they passed through a small town. When she looked at him, he was staring out his window with an expression of complete heartbreak. She looked down at Prince's head in her lap. "I don't want you to go, but I don't know what's truth from you anymore." She swallowed hard. "I wasn't enough for you to find me a month ago, or to make you stay last night. It's hard to believe that you suddenly have a change of heart now." She stroked Prince's soft head.

"It's not like that," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Just stop," she whispered. "Things are already bad enough." Tears ran down her face.

"Emma—" His voice cracked.

Her face crumpled and she stared down at her lap. "Please," she whimpered. "I'm begging you to stop talking. I don't want more broken promises." Prince lifted his head, as if realizing her need for comfort. She wrapped her arms around the dog's neck and buried her face in his fur, letting the tears fall.

She could feel his eyes on her back. He remained silent, although the pain tearing him up inside screamed across the car. His pain seemed to intensify seeing her upset.

When the tears subsided, she took a shakey breath and wiped her eyes. Jason sat with his elbow on the door, holding his head with his eye closed. He looked...devastated. "I'm exhausted and stressed," she said quietly and brushed at her eyes.

He lifted his head and looked at her, his eye so weary. "You shouldn't make excuses to hide what you feel," he said with incredible patience, even though he looked like she'd ripped out his heart and tortured it.

Her lip trembled. "I feared men, but I didn't fear you." A tear inched down her cheek. "I didn't run that night because I was scared you'd beat me—I ran because the man I knew wasn't real. The last time that happened years ago, a monster came for me. It's not fair, but you're getting the backlash of that. I know you wouldn't hit me..." Her face crumpled. His eye teared and his lips pressed together witnessing her pain. "But you can crush me like even he couldn't," she whispered. "And you've shown that you would. That's what terrifies me."

His blue eye slowly widened in disbelief. The emotions flashed across the visible parts of his face. It was like watching a crystal heart fall in slow motion. The corner of it hit the ground and crush in on itself, the cracks spidering all at once from every angle. It exploded into dozens of shards, shattering in a rainbow of color. His gaze slipped away, as if in shock, and fell to his lap. He stared without seeing. His chest rose and fell like it hurt to breathe. It was as if he suddenly comprehended her betrayal and fear.

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, and his hand slowly wrapped around the doorhandle. He slipped out in that quiet, graceful way of his. Only this time, his movements portrayed the pain inside his heart. Then he shut the door and started walking on the sidewalk, his hands uncharacteristically shoved in his front pockets with his head bowed.

Pete pulled over the car and waited as Jason kept walking down the block.

Things kept spiraling out of control, pain driving them farther and farther apart. She looked out her own window. Prince moved his head onto his own paws and went to sleep. She curled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Leaning her forehead against the cold glass, she'd past the point of crying and now felt...numb. So utterly void and numb as she stared out the window.

The front door opened minutes later. The tinted divider showed enough silhouette to view Jason get in the passenger seat. The door closed and the car started forward. The divider was cracked open a hair, but he and Pete didn't seem to notice. He lowered the hood of his FBI jacket, slowly pulled off the ski mask, and bowed his head.

His voice rang hollow with grief. "I was so worried about her seeing the scars, about keeping them hidden. It never occurred to me that even without her eyes she would still see a monster." He looked at Pete, his voice falling with devastation. "What is she going to think when she finds out about Charlotte?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, CRB, Morganstern15, YazminXD, caroltrivilini, Marianabelle, Callico11852, and Sophia!**

 **The frustration, angst, confusion, and irritation that some readers are feeling is intentional. I wanted to try to get the readers to feel what Emma does (without quiting the story). She has no idea 'WFH' is going on either, but she keeps hanging on (like you all) because she saw a side of Jason that she can't walk away from. Jason finally saw and got shaken up in the last chapter over just how close Emma is to walking away (probably like some of you :)) when she really doesn't want to. I pushed her and the readers to the edge on purpose.**

 **This chapter might be a little confusing because it's so packed, but it's intended to be that way because it's info overload for Emma too. But, I will bring up some of the things in here in future chapters to help Emma (and readers) be clear on everything. I think you're all going to like the end of this chapter. :)**

* * *

She opened her bedroom door the next morning after having locked herself in as soon as they'd arrived yesterday morning. When she looked down, a tray of breakfast lay at her feet just like at mealtimes yesterday. Except this time, a long stemmed white rose decorated the tray. Jason had kept his distance yesterday, but it appeared he'd delivered breakfast this morning. She took it into her room, still unable to face Trudy and Pete yet. Again, she nibbled at the food, but her stomach remained so upset that she set the tray outside her door mostly untouched.

Sitting at the window and staring out, thousands of questions kept surfacing. Why were these crooked FBI after her? How the hell had Jason gotten himself involved in this FBI case as a SEAL? Was he really a SEAL? Why was Pete, a former cop, around but acting as a driver? Was everything he'd said from before she'd left last month just a farse? Her stomach hurt from pangs of hunger and nerves.

Someone knocked on the door. She pushed her weary body up and walked over to open it. Jason stood there with a fresh plate of fruit and toast. He wore his own ski mask and a white dress shirt and black slacks. Oh god, how she missed him. This looked like the man she'd once trusted with her whole heart, but today he sported an impressive black eye.

"You hardly ate yesterday and again today." He seemed a bit subdued, as if expecting her to slam the door in his face. "Is it your stomach from the stress?" She hesitated a moment before nodding, not having the energy to be at war with him. "Fruit and toast might sit better. May I come in? I won't say a word, and you can rip my head off or cry or do whatever will make you feel better."

She looked up to see worry etched on his face, and she frowned. "Why?"

His voice rang flat. "Because I care, even though you don't think so. I caused you this grief. You're thinner than at your father's funeral, and you don't have the rosiness in your cheeks anymore. I want to take care of you, Emma. All I ask is you give me small chances, that we take small steps."

Part of her wanted it, but part of her didn't have the energy to argue. She stepped back to let him in.

"Let's sit and see if this food agrees with you," he said, his voice gentle.

Then he set a hand on the small of her back for but a moment. But a moment of memories was all it took. The tenderness and love and regret swelled up. Without thinking, she spun around and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. The need to weep rose up, but she held it back, half ready for his rejection.

He froze for an instant. Then his arms curled around her tight while he balanced the plate in one hand.

Despite everything, his arms still remained a safehaven. The fears and worries and everything faded, as if his embrace sheltered her from the world. He rubbed her back, easing the tension away. His cheek rested atop her head like he used to do. Love exuded from him and wrapped around like a blanket. This. This soothed the pain. Oh god, how it paused the constant heartache and grief. She finally eased out of his arms with embarrassment. "Sorry, I reacted."

He reached out and grazed his knuckles over her cheek, holding her eyes. "Never apologize for telling me what you need." His voice held a slight thickness, as if her reaction had touched somewhere deep in his heart. He set a hand on her back and led her to sit on the bed. Then he sat and set the plate between them.

She picked up a piece of cantaloupe with the fork and ate it, her stomach rolling at the idea of food.

"May I?" He gestured to her wrist and felt the pulse. Then he frowned and looked at her. "It's rapid and weak. Do you feel ill?"

Without responding, she forced down the piece of fruit but couldn't bring herself to take another.

"Emma, have you vomited blood or anything brown? Do you tend to get stomach ulcers?"

She shook her head and glanced up at him.

He looked very worried. "Have you vomited? Or do you have stomach pain?"

"It just hurts from being hungry."

That answer only made him look more worried. "Does it hurt if I press?" He set a hand on her back to hold her steady and then palpated her upper stomach, easing into the pressure. A burning pain shot through her, nearly making her throw up. She clamped a hand over her mouth and took deep breaths. He released instantly."You probably have an ulcer going. How long as your stomach been hurting?"

"A couple weeks. It just started aching last week." She looked at him.

He heaved a heavy sigh and sat back, as if lost deep in thought. "Are you having dizziness or anything? Well, you probably are from not eating," he answered himself. "Are you still keeping down fluids?" She nodded. "And you aren't having symptoms of a GI bleed?"

She flushed and shook her head, glad he hadn't used blatant wording.

"Alright." He seemed to absently set his hand on her shoulder in reassurance and then pulled his cell out of his pocket. "What's your weight? You need a proton pump inhibitor drug, but we might up the dosage if your weight can handle it." He opened the Internet browser and started looking up prescribing information for a drug.

"I'm fine, Jason."

He didn't look up. "No, you're not. There's a scale in my bathroom." Jamming the cell in his pocket, he scooped her up as he stood. Then he frowned. "I can feel a difference in your weight, Emma."

In a way, it felt good having him fret. The doctor side of him came out that she had rarely had a chance to witness too. "You're a bit high handed," she said, not accusing or complaining, simply stating as he carried her down the hall without any effort even with his wounded side.

"This is one of the reasons why I wanted you here." His voice flowed low and smooth as honey. He held her eyes. "Being off the grid for a couple weeks, it's vital you only go to the hospital if it's a dire emergency, or you might be tracked. I'm not a primary physician, but at least I'm better than nothing if you fall ill."

"I think I can walk. I was in a gun fight yesterday, you know," she said, testing the water. Her arms wrapped around his neck to help with the weight for his wound. She looked at him. Instinct said he would take a step to meet her half way.

"And it's good I was unaware of this ulcer. Clearly I didn't deal well with having you so close to firing guns as it was." His gaze held hers. The glow of intimacy flickered; it hadn't died, it had simply waned down to embers. She looked away from his intense gaze when they entered his room.

He set her down in the bathroom and pulled out a scale. "What was your weight before your father passed?"

By society's conventions, it should have been embarrassing and offensive to be asked that, particularly by a man. But something in his gentle tone and the look of concern in his eye made it seem as comfortable as answering 'what color is the sky?'. "Somewhere around one hundred twenty five to one hundred thirty."

He cracked a smile. "You wouldn't believe how many women could give me an exact number. I'm glad you don't obsess like that. You could weigh more than that and still carry it off easily. Besides, women's weight is supposed to fluxuate a bit throughout the month."

She couldn't help but smile and blush, thankful to just put all their problems aside for a bit and just be themselves in the moment.

He took her hand to coax her onto the scale. His eyes fell to the scale, and he grew solemn.

She looked down. One hundred twelve pounds.

"You've lost about twelve percent body weight." He rubbed his forehead. "You don't have the weight to lose, Emma." Then he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "We're weighing you every other day to make sure your weight goes up and check you're still at the right dose. I'll have Pete pick up the med. You're coming downstairs to eat a shake." He held out a hand, his eye searching her face. His voice dropped intimate and patient. "All I ask for is one chance at a time."

Nibbling her lip, she took his hand and followed him downstairs.

Trudy spotted her when they entered the kitchen and dropped the broom to crush her in a hug. "Ohh! I didn't know if I'd see you again, don'tcha know? As worried as a frog in the swamp I've been." She lifted the corner of an apron she had wrapped around her waist and dabbed at her eyes. "Dr. Port said to let you be yesterday, but I was going to break down the door if you didn't come out by lunch today."

Jason cleared his throat.

"I'll letcha be. That mutt has dust bunnies from his hair everywhere anyways." Trudy looked embarrassed but like she wanted to talk more.

She touched Trudy's arm with a slight smile. "Thank you. My stomach is bothering me, and I think he wants me to eat right now."

The woman perked right up again. "I can make some of my tapioca. It'll fix ya right up, don'tcha know. It has those probiotisosios..." she stumbled over the word.

"Probiotics," Jason corrected. He looked at Trudy. "Please, do. It'll help put weight back on her. You use the one percent milk in the fridge to make it?"

Trudy blinked. "I do. I didn't think you knew what was in it."

"You put it in the pancake batter. Of course I have a general idea what I'm eating," he replied dryly.

Trudy's eyes bugged at getting caught.

She burst out laughing.

He dug in the fridge. "I need Stevens to run to the drug store. He'll bring back two percent milk you can use. Ms. Hoplin needs the calories."

"Are you sick?" Trudy set a hand on her back in that maternal way of hers. "You look like you need a Thanksgiving turkey."

She shook her head and sat on a stool at the island counter.

He dumped an armful of fruits on the counter and gave her a stern look before glancing at Trudy. "She has symptoms of a stomach ulcer. No spicy meals for awhile. Small meals, and dairy products that are high in calcium would be good."

"Yes, sir," Trudy nodded.

"Um, I'm sitting right here." She held out her hands.

He washed the fruit and got out a knife, his eye on chopping up a fresh pineapple. "And Ms. Van Hoodie is in charge of making meals, so she needs to know. Please make a list of anything you need from town and then give it to Stevens, Ms. Van Hoodie."

"Yes, Dr. Port." Trudy gave her a quick hug again and then slipped out.

She slid out of the seat and stepped around the counter beside him. Then she took the carton of strawberries over to the sink and started washing. The tension eased back into the air. "Jason?" Nerves started churning her already upset stomach.

"Hm, sweetheart?"

She swallowed hard at the name she hadn't heard in so long.

He cleared his throat. "My apologies. That just slipped out." His heat soaked into her back as he stepped closer. "Sit down and rest." His deep baritone fell a hint lower, taking on a husky quality. It wasn't sexual but tender and so very gentle. His arm reached around and eased the carton of strawberries out of her hands. The warm whisp of his breath grazed her neck.

Leaning her hands down on the edge of the sink, she drew a shakey breath to calm the shiver of desire that ran up her spine. Clearing her throat, she bit her lip and worked up the courage to ask, "If I asked for the truth about everything, would you prove it?"

He didn't say anything for several moments. Then his hand rested on her back and his other leaned down on the sink beside hers. "I would try to find what I could. Do you want to talk now or—"

"Now." She tensed, almost expecting the world to cave in as he set a hand on her back and guided her over to the stool. Then he returned to the other side of the counter and resumed cutting up the fruit. He seemed eerily calm.

"I was born in Scotland thirty four years ago this coming August. Everything I said about my father being an alcoholic and my mother working several jobs to keep us afloat was true. We lived in an abandoned two-room cottage that wasn't fit for pigs. After my father died when I was twelve, my mother got it into her head that things would be better in America. The land of opportunity." He sighed and dumped the pineapple into a bowl. Then he moved onto cutting up strawberries. "Opportunity never came for her. We lived in a rusty old trailer park, and instead of me getting odd jobs to help make money, I got into trouble."

He met her eyes and stopped cutting, and seemed to have to force himself to keep talking. "I got in a lot of fights at school starting at thirteen when we moved to the US. I resented having to move to another country and not know a soul for what I thought was a worse life. The boys at school thought it was funny to make fun of my accent, so I would react by throwing punches. I learned fast how to lose the accent, but the seed of anger had already been planted. I let it grow. I think I spent half of high school in the principal's office." He closed his eye for a moment and looked humiliated. "In my sophmore year, for about two months I tried drugs."

She blinked. "Like, marijuana?"

Looking her in the eye, he shook his head. "Marijuana at first, but then I tried coke and heroin," he said quietly. "The marijuana was five times and the other drugs once each. After the heroin, I seizured in a back alley where the kids were shooting up." His eye fell in shame. "Scared the hell out of me, and I didn't do any drugs again after that. I never drank, having no interest in it after watching my father die from it. I shifted my group of friends and ended up with the ones whom I was caught with for grand auto theft. I was exactly the kind of screwup your father would have strung up and gutted himself if I'd come around you."

She stared at the counter. That kind of messed up childhood was far worse than what he'd admitted a month ago. She looked at him.

He snorted with a bitter laugh. "You should go lock yourself in your room now."

"But, that's not who you are now," she frowned.

He picked up the knife and started cutting again. "Boot camp and then Charles were a turning point. When you hit rock bottom, the only place to go is up."

It took a lot of strength to confess such things, and he looked so ashamed. She got up and walked over to him, leaning her elbows on the counter to catch his eye as he cut the tops off the strawberries. "Not everyone chooses to go up," she said softly. He didn't lift his gaze, but his lips pressed together like he'd heard her. "You climbed higher than many people, and I have a feeling you haven't reached the top yet."

His lip curled up ever so slightly for a moment. Then he sobered. "I didn't even tell Charles about it. I prefer it's not shared." He glanced at her.

Something he'd shared with only her, something that obviously shamed him a great deal. Her heart constricted that he had shared something so private. "Of course." Then she set a hand on his shoulder. "So if your kids start getting into any drugs, you'll go ballistic," she teased, trying to coax a smile.

A chuckle escaped him. "I'll tan their hides to Kingdom Come." Then he set down the knife. "Come. I'm not supposed to have any papers from my previous life, but I didn't know if I'd ever need them for anything." He took her hand and led her into his office. Pulling out the bottom desk drawer, he set aside the files and then lifted the false bottom. A manilla envelope lay inside. He dumped out the contents and handed over a birth certificate, court papers from the auto theft charge absolving him in return for community service, a certificate for graduating from the Navy SEALS, and a medical degree from Harvard with a fellowship certificate from Johns Hopkins.

"Oh my god! Harvard and Johns Hopkins?" Her mouth fell open.

He shrugged. "Had to bust myself in undergrad to get into med school to make up for nearly failing high school. To my knowledge, these documents are the only proof that I existed before the fire."

She leaned against the desk, trying to absorb it all. Then she set down the papers and looked at him. "What happened in the fire? My father spoke like you chose to go into a burning building."

He sat in the desk chair and caught her hand. She sat in his lap as he ran his fingers over her hair. "That's something that perhaps you should ask Stevens and Ms. Van Hoodie."

She frowned in confusion. "Were they there?"

"Just ask them about it. The newspaper stories were fed lies by the FBI, so Stevens and Ms. Van Hoodie are my only proof about what happened there." He rested his hands on the armrests and sat back in the chair.

"You won't tell me about it?" She laid a hand on his chest.

"After you talk to them we can talk, if you wish."

Hesitating for a moment, she took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Who is Charlotte?"

Grief filled his eye, and he looked away. "I ask that when you talk to them about the fire, you don't ask them about that name. That's something I wish for you and I to discuss privately in time."

She sighed. He had enough questions thrown at him that she couldn't be upset he wouldn't answer one. When she nibbled her lip, his finger brushed over it. "What else has you fretting?"

She held his eye. "Tell me about after the fire then."

He sighed, as if the weight of the world sat on his shoulders. "I was in the burn unit for about three months, and in and out of the hospital for surgeries for a total of almost eighteen months the last four years. I had a lot of time on my hands with recoveries. Then with the whole witness protection thing...I think I coped with the depression of never getting married or having kids after being burned by throwing myself into work. I'd been involved in medical research at Harvard, so I knew some channels of getting into patents. The government created new diplomas and records but simply changed my name. I have a man stand in for me for patent meetings, and two physicians who practically run the charity for me. If you are high enough in the 'corporate' ladder, it's amazing how little you need to be onsite. I communicate via email and phone mostly." He shifted in the chair and seemed more self-conscious than he'd seemed in these past twenty-four hours combined. "Since the fire but before you came, I'd gone out in public eleven times," he said quietly.

Her eyebrows rose. "So you built all this," she gestured to the room, "basically from a hospital bed and your house."

The fact that she didn't comment on his antisocial behavior or the burns seemed to make him relax. Cracking a smile, he said, "I had time to study the stock market too and made some lucrative investments in stocks. It's almost embarrassing, in a way, how little work I do but have this much money."

She eyed him sideways. "And none of this is illegal?"

He leaned over for a moment and flipped open a leather binder. Then he handed her paystubs for several stock payouts, patent dividends, and other investments. Each was for at least a hundred thousand dollars.

Looking at him with wide eyes, she studdered. "Is this...w, what...is this for last year's payments?"

The man seemed to hesitate. "Last month," he answered, his voice subdued.

"What?! Just how much do you make in a year?" she gasped. Then she clamped a hand over her mouth and looked at him quick. "Sorry."

"I deserve as much prying as you wish." He didn't seem offended at all. "Do you want to know?"

Biting her lip, she slowly shook her head. "Actually, I don't think I do." She set the papers on the desk and then folded her hands in her lap to look at him. "So, you're a retired SEAL?"

"Yes. I simply help with mountain rescues because of my location here. The mission yesterday was the first time I've been involved in a mission since the fire. Odds are it won't happen again; my tie to you made it an extenuating circumstance."

"You're not FBI, though?"

"No."

"I get how you and my dad tie together, but I don't understand why crooked FBI are after me. Why me? Dad never told Mom or I anything about work so nothing could ever happen to us being he did deal with catching huge druglords."

His expression went dead serious all of the sudden. "Emma, I was the hitman for a druglord your father had been hunting down. I said how he thought the fire was retaliation from the druglord's followers."

She nodded. "I remember."

He paused and seemed to carefully think out his words. "You unraveled a mess that should have been untracable with the embezzeling."

Her heart dropped, knowing his words before he spoke them.

"Emma, the FBI narrowed down the suspects based on your work. They think it's men feeding money from the foundation to this late druglord's successor. Seems quite coincidental that out of all the ways to get money, my charity is chosen to feed money to a pipeline I helped take down. The FBI called this morning after questioning the crooked agent they caught in the showdown last night. Turns out he and the agent whom I shot last night were paid big money to leak my new name to this druglord."

She blinked. "So, they're after me because they think I know about them from my dad working on their case. They think that's how I busted the embezzeling."

He nodded.

"And why are they after you again in the first place?" He didn't look like he'd talk. "Jason, I have a right to know if my family is in trouble."

The man rubbed his forehead. "Your mother is being watched by agents live around the clock just in case, but these drug dealers seem focused on you. We think they want you dead, and they're after me with the intent of somehow blackmailing me into being their cash cow."

She rubbed her hands over her face, trying to keep this all straight. "So, if your identity is compromised, why are we sitting in this house in the middle of the mountains when they could waltz in here?" Then it dawned. "You wanted me with you, with a SEAL, because the FBI thinks I'll be kidnapped for ransome to get you to pay out."

His eye fluttered closed and he heaved a sigh. Then he cursed under his breath. "Shit, you weren't supposed to put the pieces together." He ran his hands over the ski mask with frustration and looked at her. "Alright, yes. I had a living fit when Frank, the FBI agent in charge of me being in witness protection, said you were going to be shipped to Vermont without protection until this gets settled. Not to scare you, but if these maniacs are as crazy as I think, you need someone with you at all times. Not to sound arrogant, but even being partially blind, my combat and tactics training far surpass anything those FBI idiots can do to keep you safe."

"But we're just going to sit her like ducks waiting for them to come barging in with guns?" Her heart raced. Who thought up this assinine plan?

He shook his head. "Don't kill me. The trial with your ex got pushed back and a false one is being staged as a setup to catch these agents. I know you still don't trust me, and this wasn't my idea." He winced and said, "You and I are being relocated together for just a couple weeks at most. To a small town in Florida."

She frowned. "And this is so bad because...?"

"We have to pretend we're there for our honeymoon." He leaned back in the chair quick like he expected her to throw a punch.

"What?" she asked dryly.

He scooted her off his lap and jumped up, holding up his hands. "It wasn't my idea. I tried talking them into it being a fake anniversary trip or something, but there isn't enough time to get the paperwork all made with new names. A new marriage explains it and makes it easier than them coming up with two separate identities."

She took a step toward him, and clenched her teeth. "You can call and tell them we are not staying in a hotel room together."

"This was not my idea, Emma. Don't get mad at me. If it's one bed, I'll sleep on the floor."

"I can't believe you! You said I was coming here for two weeks!"

"That's what I was told until two hours ago!"

Heaving an angry sigh through her nose, she dropped into the chair. "And just when does this happy honeymoon start?"

He glanced at his watch. "We pick up a rental car in three hours." He backed up to the door.

"What?!"

The man looked utterly panicked and pointed to his black eye. "A car accident story explains why I'm freshly black and blue!" Then he pointed at her. "Just for the record, you are not driving when you might drive me off a cliff."

She shot to her feet, ready to let him have it.

"I have to go pack." He darted out the door, seeming like he couldn't get away fast enough.

Dropping into the chair, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Not his idea," she snorted. "I'll kill him. I'm gonna kill him before we even get out of Colorado. God, he even has me talking to myself." She dropped her hand and got up to go find Pete and Trudy. No way would she leave without finding out the real story about the fire too.


	9. Chapter 9

Pete had already left to get the medicine, so she hunted down Trudy in her room. Trudy had a suitcase on the bed and packed the very few warm weather clothes that hadn't been abandoned at her old Colorado apartment. Prince slept sprawled out on the floor with a sock waded up in his mouth.

"Are you and Pete staying?" She walked in and nibbled her lip. If these men thought she and Jason were here, no one was safe in the house.

Trudy shook her head without turning around. "We're going to California to stay with a good friend of Dr. Port's. Prince is coming too. With all his hair." Trudy's voice quivered and then she burst into tears.

"Trudy, it'll be alright." She stepped forward and wrapped the shorter woman in a hug.

Trudy held her tight. "We all looked and looked for you. I never thought you'd come back. I heard your fight that day, and I told him to go after you fast before you got scared and disappeared, don'tcha know. He got so depressed and locked himself in his study those first three days." She let go and brushed at her eyes with the apron. "He said you'd found out what a monster he is, that he didn't deserve you. He hardly slept and ate. Then he learned about those awful men looking for you, and he started searching like a mad man in a tunnel. Wore himself out trying to find you and came down with pneumonia nearly three weeks ago. The doctor wanted to hospitalize him because of the breathing problems the poor dear has from the fire. Dr. Port wouldn't have it. He said he had to find you before those men did."

And she'd accused him of not caring, not trying to come after her. She closed her eyes, feeling sick to her stomach at the dark irony.

Trudy pulled back to look at her with a quivering lip. "And now he found you. But what if you don't come back again?" she blubbered.

Her heart ripped, and she hugged Trudy again. Why hadn't he said how frantically he'd looked for her? She swallowed hard and rubbed Trudy's back. "We're working things out. I'll come back, Trudy."

The woman wiped her eyes and stepped back. "I should be packing you up and not blubbering like a crazy peacock."

"I can do it. You have your own things you need to pack." She grabbed undergarments out of a drawer and started packing while Trudy sorted through the pajamas.

"No, I want to help, don'tcha know. I can't find much for summer things. I'm sure Dr. Port will buy you some things in Florida." She seemed to perk up. "He had so much fun finding you those dresses for your birthday. He'll be like a dog in puddles helping you shop for clothes."

The man continued to surprise her right and left. He didn't seem like one who would like shopping, especially for women's clothes. "Trudy?" How could she approach this subject tactfully? "He said to ask you and Pete what happened in the fire, but not about Charlotte." She nibbled her lip and then looked at Trudy, her heart beating fast.

Trudy stilled, her eyes downcast. "It was an apartment fire in Maryland at two in the morning," she said, her voice so solemn. "My sister got hurt, I think I told you. It ws in the fire." Trudy raised her eyes, with tears shimmering. "My sister said the place went up so fast that most people were trapped inside. She got trapped in a hall when a dresser from the floor above fell through and crushed her legs. She said the heat in the building was painful, and she screamed and screamed for help."

Trudy wiped at her eyes. "This man walked through the smoke like an angel, she said. He was covered in soot with a wet rag tied around his face. He heaved the dresser off and carried her through the fire. She said she thought they were going to burn because every exit he tried was blocked. He finally climbed out a window and set her down on the sidewalk where an ambulance pulled up. Then she said he turned and ran back inside. Three other people laid on the sidewalk who were a bit injured too. He ran in three more times. The final time the firefighters had arrived and wouldn't even go in. They could hear someone still inside screaming." Tears ran down her face.

"My sister said he ran in again. This time he didn't come out." She sank onto the bed shaking. "I read in the paper that he had died two weeks later, the man who had saved my sister, whom he hadn't even known besides passing her in the hall maybe at the apartment. It was purely by chance a year later that I saw a man at the market in Minnesota. His face was burned off, and people stared and shied away like he was some creature. I just knew. He looked like an angel to me. I walked up to him and the poor dear looked startled when I kissed his hand. I told him that he saved my sister's life and kept my niece and nephew from becoming motherless. He just stared at me for a moment."

She sank onto the bed beside Trudy and wiped the tears from her own eyes. The kind of courage and selflessness it took to go into a burning building over and over again without even protective clothing or oxygen. That newspaper article he'd shown her had called him a hero. And he was. Oh god, how she'd misjudged him.

Trudy's face crumpled. "The first thing he said to me was, 'You don't fear the monster everyone else does.' He looked like he couldn't comprehend such a thing. Can you imagine, a man who had lost so much to save so many lives but be so ostracized? He still thinks himself some kind of beast," she sniffled. "I told him that I saw an angel. He stared at me again for a moment." Then tears rolled down Trudy's cheeks. "He started crying in the middle of the store. What kind of curelty he must have experienced for a man like him to fall apart in public like that. At the same time, he had such grace and dignity. I knew I couldn't leave him. I knew Jesus had planned for me to meet him. What are the chances and when I thought him dead?" Fury darkened Trudy's eyes. "Those heartless beasts in there stared even worse. I took him outside away from the eyes and hugged him. He held on like he'd never know a human touch again."

She couldn't stop the tears from coming as hard as Trudy's.

"We talked for a minute. I mentioned I'd been laid off and was having trouble finding work. He was there on business and asked if I'd want to come to Colorado to be his cook and housekeeper. I owe him so much, so I came. Never has a day gone by when I regret it." Trudy took her hands in earnest. "He is a good man, and I love him like my own son. Sometimes he's terse and distant, but it's because he's afraid of being shut out. I think he feels safer being so formal with Pete and I. But there are times when he's up late at night and he lets his guard down and talks to me. He loves you. I know sometimes it's hard when he closes off, but in the three years I've known him, I've never seen him as happy as when he's with you."

She couldn't help but give a watery smile. "Trudy, you don't have to advocate for him. I want to work things out with him too." The woman looked so relieved.

"Emma," he called, before coming around the door. "Stevens got the medicine-" He stepped into the room with a pill box and stopped short seeing her and Trudy in tears. "What's wrong?"

The love, grief, admiration, and a dozen emotions swept through her. She got up and quickly walked over, flinging her arms around his neck and standing on her toes to hold him tight. "I love you," she whispered.

He pulled back and his eye searched her face, the anxiety building. "Emma? What's wrong?"

It was as if he hadn't heard. Then she gave a watery smile and stroked the good side of his face through the mask. He didn't seem to even realize that he'd let her hug him with her cheek against the burned side of his face. "I said I love you."

The stress faded from his eye. An embarrassed smile touched his lips. "I love you too. I can only hear low tones in that ear, though."

The love overflowed. She didn't care about Trudy being there or him not having a teeth bridge yet. She pressed her lips to his, wrapping a hand around to cup the back of his head and grabbing a fistful of his shirt to not let him go.

He broke the kiss after a moment and smiled, looking a bit embarrassed that Trudy had witnessed the intimate moment. He cleared his throat and handed her the pill box. "Take one pill once a day. I'd surmise you would prefer to read the side effects rather than me discuss them. If you have any trouble, we can adjust the dose or switch meds." He looked at her pointedly like a scolding doctor. "You have to tell me if you have trouble. I think you might be better off starting it after the twenty two-hour car drive, just in case you have trouble."

She took the box. "Why what are...?" Turning it over, she read the side effects. Headache, diarrhea, constipation, abdominal pain, nausea, flatulence... "Oh." Her face burned, and she quickly held the box behind her back and folded her hands.

His forefinger hooked under her chin to raise her head to meet his eye. "I've seen it all at the hospital. All you have to do is come to me and say the dosage needs adjusting, nothing more. I don't want you to try to wait it out because you're embarrassed to say." His matter-of-fact tone made it a little less mortifying. "Your weight is already low, and we don't need problems with you losing more nutrition. Most people tolerate the drug well, so there likely won't be a problem." He set a roll of calcium tablets in her hand. "Use these in the meantime so your stomach can start healing. These won't give you trouble."

"Thanks." She smiled in embarrassment, but genuinely appreciated his concern and care to make the conversation as un-mortifying as possible.

He kissed her forehead, and her heart melted just as it did whenever he made that tender gesture. "I'm going to go finish up, Emma." Then he left.

Turning around, she met Trudy's eyes. Trudy simply gave a knowing smile and resumed packing.

She sought out Pete a few minutes later. He was shrugging on his coat at the front door and had a large suitcase. He glanced at her. "Ready?"

"Actually, I'm hoping you have a few minutes. Jason said I should ask you about the fire, but not Charlotte," she said carefully, watching his expression.

He still for a moment and grew very quiet. His eyes remained downcast. "I don't like discussing it. I mentioned before that I tried to commit suicide after my family left."

She set a hand on his arm. "You don't have to talk about it."

He kept his eyes diverted. "After my family left, I got an apartment. I tried to hang myself the night of the fire. I heard everyone screaming from the fire, but I didn't care. I wanted to die. Dr. Port and his mate broke down doors trying to get everyone out. Dr. Port broke into my place right after I kicked away the chair to hang myself. He got me down. I think I passed out because I woke up outside on the sidewalk and saw him go back in." He took a shakey breath, trying to rush through the tale.

"I was in the same hospital as him for psych treatment. He was on the burn unit one floor up. I happened to get off the elevator on the wrong floor a few weeks later for my appointment and saw him walking the hall. I thanked him for what he did, and we got to talking. He was having a hard time adjusting to just having one eye and getting over the grief of his mate not having made it out of the fire. Dr. Port offered me a position to be his driver. I'd lost my badge due to my alcoholism, but he said I could have the job if I agreed to random sobriety tests. He helped me get my life straightened out, and I guess I helped him not lose his independence when he was sent to live on a mountain. I couldn't do it if I was him-be trapped in a house by roads he can't drive. They force him to be dependent on me. Sometimes I go crazy for him." Pete seemed incredibly saddened and grabbed the suitcase and walked out to load the car.

She chewed on that for a bit. Jason had saved at least six people that night - at the cost of his physical injuries and losing the man who'd been like a brother and father to him.

"Are you ready, Emma?" Jason trotted down the stairs with a laptop bag over his shoulder and her suitcase in his other hand.

He seemed mostly at peace with what had happened. Something in her gut whispered that he'd do it all over again to save those people. He frowned, and she snapped out of her daydreaming. "Oh! No, Trudy was doing the clothes and I got sidetracked." She hurried to the stairs and started to pass him.

"She packed toiletries and practically everything from your bathroom in here."

"Oh." She stopped on the stairs and looked at him. Odd how knowing the truth now made it seem like the past few weeks hadn't happened, how easily the anxiety about him had melted away. It was almost as if the anxiety about him hadn't really been there but more a fear it would be. A peacefulness settled around her. She set a hand on his chest.

The warmth in his gentle eye promised love and protection. Without a word, he set down the suitcase on the step. He cupped her face in his hands, so gentle yet strong. "Emma," he whispered. "Let me be beside you. Take me with you; wherever you go, let me come too. I want to be your shelter and the wings you've been for me. Let me love you."

Tears welled in her eyes. "Promise a world with no more lies. Promise that this time we won't break each other's hearts like that ever again."

He shook his head. "Close your eyes, Emma."

She did. Perhaps he'd picked a rose When his bare lips brushed over hers, she inhaled sharply in surprise. It had been so long since he'd kissed her like this. Oh god, she'd missed him so much. Her heart squeezed painfully hard until she broke the kiss and held him tight with her arms around his neck. He held her close as she softly wept. "I love you. I missed you so much," she said against his shoulder. "Tell me that you'll love me until we die."

His warm lips kissed her neck, and he cradled her in his arms. "No, Emma," he whispered, his voice thick. "I'll love you forever and a day."


	10. Chapter 10

"Stop," she laughed in the rental car passenger seat, with Jason in his ski mask seated behind the wheel three hours later. The radio blared a hard rock song of the singers screaming the lyrics. Jason belted out the indecipherable words, completely making up crazy lyrics, and he half headbanged just enough to not crash the car. The distinguished Dr. Port looked completely ridiculous and sounded even worse. "And she ate the barbecue chips! All over her lips! Grill me some hot dogs, babyyyyy!" he belted out, trying to reach the high notes. His voice cracked on the last word.

Grabbing her stomach, she had to cross her legs as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Stop," she wheezed. "Seriously, stop." She doubled over laughing and had to hold between her legs.

He belly laughed and turned down the radio. "Do you need a restroom?"

She held a hand to her mouth and doubled over, nodding because she couldn't breathe enough to speak.

"I think we're in the middle of nowhere. _It's the outback,_ _baby_!" he cried and grabbed the steeringwheel like the end of the world had come.

Wracked by another fit of laughter at his insanity, she squirmed in her seat. "Oh god, pull over!" she wheezed, seriously fighting to not wet herself. Her stomach muscles even hurt from laughing so much. "You're a lunatic."

He laughed and turned on the blinker. "Here's a fastfood place."

As soon as the car stopped, she bolted out and ran to the building with tears of laughter still running down her cheeks. His chuckle followed.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, he stood with a shoulder against a wall and wore his plastic mask. He had left his coat in the car and stuck his hands in his pockets and his ankles were crossed. The white dress shirt pulled tight across his shoulders. His poor eye was quite a shiner, as was his jaw. Somehow the bruises and a split lip only added to his rugged, rich, sexy look, though, giving an aire of a bad boy. A couple women in the mostly deserted restaurant watched him with some interest. His gaze, however, remained on her.

She flushed and walked over and stopped before him. "Does your face hurt?" Reaching up, she stroked his cheek.

"Not much. The other side looks worse, but I can't feel that side much. It's just the swelling that is uncomfortable, but I figured I shouldn't wear a black ski mask into a rural restaurant that has cash." He cracked a smile.

She laughed. "But we would get escort service in a police car, with just a detour to jail for planned robbery. Have a wild side, Jason."

He smiled. "I've already done the cop car ride, thank you. Are you hungry for lunch while we're here?" He pushed away from the wall and pulled out his wallet.

"I can do lunch. I just have to get my purse out of the car." She held out her hand for the keys.

With a smile, he grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the counter. "The lady doesn't buy the food."

She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. "This is the twenty first century."

"Thank God for that." He smiled and pulled her close. "Because we're going to Florida and bikinis are very well accepted these days."

Her eyes widened. "I'm not wearing a bikini in front of everyone."

He cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't say anything about you wearing it for anyone else. I'd have to beat the men off you." Then he gave a mischevious smile. "But alone in our hotel room..." His smile grew and his hand slipped inside her open parka and stroked up and down her back. "New wife of mine," he purred, his voice husky.

A shiver of dark pleasure skittered up her spine, and she dropped her eyes with a shy smile. "No. There's not much difference between a bikini and underclothes."

With a smile, he pecked a kiss on her lips. "It was worth asking. Alright, what would you like for lunch?" He offered his arm and led her up to the counter as he looked up at the menu. "And do you want a shake?"

Her eyes happened to land on the teenage boy taking orders at the counter while Jason talked. The kid stared at him with a gaping mouth. Great. Jason didn't need this.

"Emma?"

Her eyes whipped up to him. "Sorry. I'll have the reuben and a strawberry shake."

His shoulders sagged a little. "Oh, a reuben sounds grand," he sighed with longing.

It was one of the few times he'd slipped into European slang. She smiled. "So get one. It's easy enough to cut up," she said in soft tones so no one overheard.

He hesitated.

She stepped forward quick to distract the kid from Jason before Jason noticed. "May we get two reubens, a strawberry shake, and...?" She looked back at Jason.

He stepped up and shook his head.

"You have to drink something." She frowned.

"That'll be it," he said tightly, obviously not wanting to discuss it, and handed the kid a twenty dollar bill.

"No, I have an idea. Pick something," she smiled and linked her arm through his. He almost scowled. "A water and a cup and straw," she told the kid. Jason's jaw clenched, and he looked a bit angry. "Trust me," she whispered.

He released a heavy sigh and held out the bill to the boy again.

"Dude, you should seriously get your face fixed. I walked past your car when you were getting that plastic thing on. It was, like, gross," the kid said.

The air froze in her lungs in shock, and she stared.

"Take the lady's order," Jason replied, sounding so composed. But he set the money on the counter because his hand shook.

She looked up at him. Should she pretend it hadn't happened? Rip the kid a new one? Tell Jason to wait in the car while she waited for the order? His body trembled against her arm linked through his. Her heart dropped. Oh god, he wasn't angry; he trembled because he was terrified how far the kid would go humiliating him in front of her.

"Freak," the kid muttered under his breath and took the money.

Everything burned red, and she wanted to lunge across the counter at him. Taking a deep breath, she slowly blew it out.

"Are you okay, lady?"

She looked at him, a calmness sweeping over her. "Yeah. I just got out of anger management for beating up a punk kid. He was a lot bigger than you, though." The kid looked nervous. She let go of Jason's arm and leaned her hands on the counter. "It took my husband and two cops to pull me off. This kid was in the hospital for, like, two weeks. The judge wanted to lock me up in the nut house for the _crazy people!_ " At the last two words, she suddenly leaned over the counter and raced out the words. The kid jumped ten feet, his eyes nearly popping out of my head, as he paled sheet white.

A choked snort erupted behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, Jason walked away a bit, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Widening her eyes like a lunatic, she slowly shook her head at the kid. "I don't like when people say things about him."

"S, sorry." The cooks behind him looked a little scared too. Their order was ready in about ten seconds. The kid shoved the bag and drinks at her. "Here. On the house."

Unable to resist, she took the items and then pointed at her eyes and then at the kid. It never failed to terrify someone when her father did it. And it worked again. The kid looked ready to faint.

"Emma," Jason scolded under his breath, trying not to laugh, and pulled her outside.

When they got in the car with her in the driver's seat this time so Jason could eat, he burst out laughing. "I have to say that was very creative. Even I was a little scared of you. But you shouldn't do that because someone might call the cops on you."

She flashed him a smile. "I didn't do anything threatening."

"Except that eye trick," he chuckled. "You have that down as well as your father. I had a terrifying flashback for a moment."

With a laugh, she pulled out the drinks. He sobered at the flip of a switch and didn't say anything but looked like quite angry. "Don't be cranky with me. Your upper palette and tongue are fine, so you can do this." She poured the water bottle into the cup and stuck in a straw. Then she handed it to him. Putting a straw in her shake, she tried sipping. "Shoot. This is too thick yet. Can I have your water?" He handed it over, not looking excited. Taking the straw far in her mouth, she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to create a sealed suction and took a sip. At the same time, she kept her mouth open enough to stick the tip of her finger past her teeth. His missing lip wouldn't be an obstacle.

His eye lit up with wonder. "You're drinking?"

She frowned. "Yeah-" Except she forgot to swallow and water gushed down her chin and splattered her jeans. She grabbed her mouth, utterly mortified.

He burst out laughing and handed her a napkin from his wad so she could wipe her face. "I don't feel as mortified drinking in front of you now."

"Okay, okay, you have to swallow." She flushed. He leaned forward and kissed away a drop on her chin. "It really does work." She did it again successfully to prove it.

He studied her mouth intently. "How are you doing that?"

She smiled and handed him the cup. "Put in the straw toward the back of your tongue. Here, I have a lipstick mark on the straw. Put it in that far, maybe a tad farther because your mouth is bigger." He did, although he seemed a bit nervous he'd humiliate himself. "Now create a seal with your tongue."

He took a sip, ready with a wad of napkins. But he swallowed. His head jerked back from the cup like he couldn't comprehend it had worked. He tried it again.

At the same time it made her smile to see him gain some freedom, it broke her heart that something so basic as drinking had been denied to him. He set down the cup and bowed his head. He should have been smiling. "It's been almost four years since I've drank in front of anyone. Since I haven't had to stand over a sink," he said, his voice thick. "Thank you, Emma," he whispered.

She swallowed back the tears and took his hand. "I think these next two weeks we need to get creative and see what other things we can find solutions for." With a smile, she bent her head to catch his eye.

He looked at her in all seriousness. "Would kissing be more pleasant for you if my lip wasn't deformed? The dentist and a plastic surgeon think they can do it with five or six surgeries."

That tore her heart, twisting and pulling until it almost bled. She took his hand and leaned over the console to be closer. Stroking his cheek, she searched his eye. "I never want you to have something done because of me. If you feel it would greatly improve your quality of life, then that's why you should do it. I do not wish it."

He looked a bit surprised. "You don't find it a bit gross? You don't act like it bothers you, but it must."

"Nothing about you bothers me. You have been under anesthesia so many times, Jason. There are the risks each time and the cognitive effects years later that no one understands yet. I don't want that."

"But-"

She shook her head. "I cherish your kisses how they are now. You make yourself so vulnerable to me when we kiss without the mask. You've never let anyone else get that close to you. It's like kissing your soul and being as intimate as making love." Tears welled in her eyes. "Your kisses are so beautiful. When I ask you to kiss me without the mask, it's never out of curiosity. It's because I want that closeness with you. I feel desire when we kiss and want to make love with you. I don't see your scars, Jason." A tear ran down her cheek. With such tenderness, he brushed it away. "Trudy and Pete explained what happened that night. I see a man who bears the scars for at least half a dozen people and has become so beautiful for it. The grace and dignity and strength with which you carry yourself, and a heart far too big to fit in here, are what I see." She laid a hand over his chest. Gently shaking her head, she held his eye. "I'm blind to the scars." It hurt to see him so afraid he repulsed her. How could he think she saw him as anything but amazing? "A rose has no eyes, Jason." Trudy's words from weeks ago made so much sense now.

His eye flashed with the memory. "You heard her that night."

She nodded. "It's why you love them so much, isn't it? Roses don't have eyes and thrive under your touch. Do you not see how you've made me thrive too? I came to you so lost and terrified of the world. I've found my home, Jason." She swallowed down the lump in her throat and slid over the console to sit in his lap. Tears shimmered in his eye. They hadn't outright spoken of it, but he needed to know. She needed to unbottle the love that couldn't fit in her heart anymore. "I want to marry you," she whispered and stroked his cheek.

His lip trembled, and he pressed his lips together. Then his face crumpled and he bowed his head. She held him, with tears slipping down her own cheeks, as he held her tight. He sniffled and took a shakey breath after a moment. Then he looked at her, his eye glassy. "I've known I wanted to marry you since the first time we kissed." He cupped her cheeks in his gentle hands and brushed away her tears with his thumbs. "I can't ask you to bind yourself to this. I can't give you children and force them to endure a father whom they'd be ashamed to be with in public."

She shook her head. "They would love you and never be ashamed. They would learn your strength and kindness. Slurs against you would anger them as much as they do me."

He shook his head. "I cannot make my family endure that. You deserve a husband who can take you out for dinner and go to the children's baseball games."

"You would see me wed a man I don't love? Tolerate his beddings and only hold onto sanity because I'd pretend he was you?"

He shook his head, looking like his heart was tearing out. "It wouldn't be like that. You'll find a man you love who can give you everything I can't."

Her face crumpled. "So then why won't you leave me?" she whispered.

He swallowed hard, as if struggling to find his voice. "Because I'm still trying to find the strength to let you go," he breathed.

"You promised you wouldn't break my heart again," she sniffled and searched his eye. Not again. She couldn't go through that again.

"A time will come when you're ready to go, and it won't break your heart," he whispered as a tear ran down his cheek.

"No." She laid her head on his shoulder and held him tight. He wouldn't break her heart, and he'd never leave if he thought there was a chance of hurting her. She had time yet. She just had to make him believe she loved him enough to spend their lives together. The next two weeks were the perfect chance.

He took a shakey breath. "We should eat before the food gets cold, sweetheart."

She kissed his cheek and sat back to look at him. "Wait, we didn't finish. Do you want the surgeries?"

He shook his head. "It would improve eating, but I still couldn't take off the mask to eat with people anyways. I can't stand the thought of another hospital or more pain." He gave a self-conscious shrug. "I'm even nervous about getting the teeth implants. If you don't want the plastic surgery, I don't either."

"It's your decision, but I would miss these kisses so much." Her heart twisted. He didn't expect to be with her much longer, yet he was willing to undergo surgeries for her sake that he didn't want.

With a nod, he brushed a kiss over her lips. "I love you."

She smiled and brushed away the last of the tears in her eyes. "I love you too." Then she slid into the driver's seat and parked at the back of the lot so they could eat in private.

It hurt to see him have to cut up his sandwich into almost two-inch squares. Then he set his mask under his leg, seeming to want to keep it out of view. She turned on the radio and took her time eating her own food, sensing he tried to eat as fast as he could. It wasn't fast by any means, and the poor man continually wiped his mouth, using the bag as a trash can for the napkins.

Then he paused after swallowing the third piece. "I can't, Emma. I feel like a toddler."

She looked at his profile. He held a napkin to the side of his mouth and stared at the dashboard. "You aren't like a toddler, Jason. I wish for you to feel comfortable for us to eat together. Is there something I can do?"

"Sit inside," he replied dryly. "No, I wouldn't make you sit alone." He sighed and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "I don't know."

"Get in the backseat." She got out. Once they were situated in the back, she shed her parka and turned sideways on the seat to lean her back against his arm. "What about this so I can't see you eat?" She looked over her shoulder but still couldn't quite see him.

"Thank you, sweetheart." His voice sounded thick with emotion.

"We'll figure it out as we go, Jason. We can do this," she replied softly.

In broad daylight, they ate lunch together.


	11. Chapter 11

Jason drove again after lunch and wore the ski mask. He seemed so at ease with driving down the highway for a man who hardly did it. "Do you like driving?"

He turned his head and flashed a smile. "I like it more now than I used to—probably because I often can't drive now."

Pete's words about Jason being trapped came slamming back. Between the driving and the mask it was a wonder he didn't go a bit crazy sometimes.

"Jason?" She nibbled her lip, and he glanced at her. "Florida is about eighty five degrees right now. I don't mean to be rude, but is it okay for you to go there?"

He glanced at her with a frown. "I'm not sure I follow."

This seemed like something she should just know and not have to ask the poor man and embarrass him. This was awkward. "Almost thirty percent of body heat is lost through the head, but don't the scars trap it? It seems like you'd be prone to heatstroke."

He ran a hand over the mask where his hair was. "I am." But he didn't elaborate.

Her stomach clenched for making him self-conscious. She set a hand on his leg. "It's just important for me to know what's going on being we'll be in hot and humid weather."

"I know," he sighed. "I feel so old and frail having so many medical problems."

She smother a laugh. "You're certainly not old or frail looking. All your medical problems stem from the burns, and there aren't actually that many problems considering everything. Since we're on the topic though..." She winced, ready for him to bite her head off. "Trudy said you got pneumonia three weeks ago and—"

He cursed under his breath.

She blinked in surprise. "Am I not supposed to know?"

Leaning an elbow on the door, he held his head. Her view of his face was obstructed by being in his blind side. "It's under control," he replied, his voice terse.

"Jason, I just want to help. You got upset that I didn't tell you that my stomach hurt when I didn't even know it was anything," she said gently. "How is it fair that you don't tell me when you're still getting over being seriously ill?" Silence. She reached forward to turn on the radio and relieve some of the tension.

His hand caught hers on the dial and laced his fingers through hers, bringing it to rest on his thigh. "I finish the antibiotics in two days. At night right now I have to use a bronchodilator."

She had to approach this carefully so he wouldn't shut down. "Three weeks seems long for being on antibiotics." She frowned.

"It didn't respond to the first antibiotic, so augmentin was started a few days later."

The poor man still seemed tense. She was there for the surgeries and had already learned about his disabilities, so why would discussing pneumonia make him so tense? "Don't be angry that I'm worried." She rubbed his arm with her other hand.

"I'm not," he said with such weariness. The world's deepest, most frustrated sigh escaped him. And he went into a terribly wet coughing fit. He pulled over the car and got out.

She turned in her seat when he opened the trunk and winced when his cough was audible through the car. After giving him a few more seconds to come out of it on his own and not embarrass him, she got out when his cough only eased a bit. She shut the door. "Jason—"

"Stay there!" he ordered from behind the trunk lid.

Stopping in her tracks, she hesitated. His coughs started to settle.

"Jason?"

He shut the trunk and seemed to readjust the ski mask as he tucked something in his pocket. The inhaler? "Get in the car." Pain strained his voice.

She hurried over to him. "What's wrong?"

"Leave me alone," he growled.

She blinked and froze mid-reach for him. The words stung, and it must have shown on her face because he closed his eye for a moment.

"Please," he said with patience this time and looked at her.

Why did he push away? So she got in the driver's seat with a heavy heart and looked in the rearview mirror. Pain contorted his face, and he lifted his shirt. A bandage covered where he'd been shot a couple days ago. A small spot of red blossomed on the bandage. She hit the trunk button and shot out of the car, ready to fight the stupid man so he'd accept help. Then she slammed the door shut and marched around to the trunk.

"Emma," he almost barked.

"Stop it," she ordered and lifted the lid. "You either have too much pride or you're stupid, and I know it's not the latter." She opened his suitcase and started digging.

"What are you doing?" He practically ground out the words and spat them.

"You're a doctor and have an injury. You packed medical supplies in here somewhere." A smaller bag in the trunk called, and she pulled it over to unzip it. Jackpot.

"It's. Fine. Get in the car, Emma!" he practically shouted.

She didn't flinch. "If you want to have a fit and get an infection because you're not caring for your wound properly, you'll have to carry me to the car." She dug out sanitizer and gloves. He didn't respond from behind. "This doesn't need to be a battle of the wills, Jason." After getting out supplies, she turned. He looked livid. "I'm a horrible person because I want to help my bleeding boyfriend," she said dryly. He just glared. "Fine. We don't talk about medical issues anymore with each other." She turned and put the pack of gauze back.

"You need to be watched with your ulcer," he ground out.

She slammed down the trunk, whipped around, and held up a finger. "Uh, no. This is not a one-way street. It's either two way or closed." His eye narrowed. It was the low road, but he forced her to take it. "Don't think you're asking me about my weight or measuring me with your hands or anything. I will be fine getting through the next two weeks without medical care."

He stepped closer, contained fury practically vibrating off of him. "You could bleed out. I _will_ be monitoring you." His voice rang deep and infused with anger.

She shouldn't anger him like this, but sometimes the only way to get through his stubbornness was to burn it out of him with anger. "And how are you going to know symptoms if I don't tell you? It's not exactly something you can monitor by just looking." She shrugged.

"Goddammit, Emma!" He slammed a fist down on the trunk. And dented it.

His temper had peaked and would start draining at any moment. Leaning back against the car, she sighed. "Oh good, now the car needs to be repaired. Who the hell can dent a car?" she drawled.

He leaned his hands on the trunk and bowed his head, so subdued.

She pulled off a glove and set a hand on his shoulder in concern. "Talk to me." Her voice carried no stronger than a whisper. "What's going on? You try to shove me away when you're afraid of something."

His arm corded hard under her hand, and he shifted his weight on his feet. "I was still on a respirator when my ex left," he said quietly, staring at the car. "When the doctors said I'd have life-long health problems, the burden flashed through her eyes. She would have played nursemaid out of duty and never complained. But I saw the horror in her eyes when she saw my face. The thought of having to touch me, much less be trapped with a thing that needed care terrified her."

She swallowed hard at hearing him call himself a 'thing.'

"I still had tubes down my throat and had to write on a piece of paper that I was calling off the wedding. The relief in her eyes..." He cleared his throat. "I was moved to a different hospital for awhile after my death was faked. Frank said she came back two weeks later and was told I was dead." He swallowed hard. "He said she cried but said she was relieved I didn't live and have to live such a desolate life."

She sucked in a breath. It must hurt so unbearably know that a woman who was supposed to love him forever preferred he'd died. Pulling off the other glove, she ducked under his arm to slip between him and the car to look him in the eye. "Jason, she didn't understand. And your life isn't desolate. You make medical inventions and save the lives of thousands. You give money to charities and run a huge charity...how can you think the world would not notice if you were gone?" She cupped his cheek to meet his eye. "If you have touched one life for the better, it is not a desolate life. You saved all those people from the fire. You mean so much to Trudy and Pete." She looked deep into his eye. "And you are my world," she whispered.

He bowed his head. "I have a fake grave beside my mother's. I went there a year after the accident and saw my ex there. She looked so guilt ridden. So I stayed in the car and called her cell. She knows my new name but nothing else about my life now. She said she felt so guilty thinking I had died alone. When she asked to get back together, I told her 'no.' I'd seen how she felt and couldn't let her sacrifice her life by staying with me out of guilt. I haven't spoken to her since, but she looked happy leaving the hospital with her husband and baby a couple months ago."

Her eyes closed. He would've so gently absolved his ex of guilt, letting her go with such grace and dignity all the while expecting she was right that he'd always be alone.

"I don't want a nursemaid, Emma."

She searched his eye with a frown. "I want to help because I love you, not to be a nursemaid. Jason, what's going on? This isn't like you to be all over the place and so extremely self-conscious like this today. There's something that has you nervous and stressed. Is it this 'vacation'?"

He walked away a few steps and then turned to face her, holding his aching side. His eye looked so tortured. "We're going to be together all the time for two weeks in just one room." Tears gathered in his eye. "You're going to see my face by accident at some point in the next few days." He took a shakey breath and his voice cracked when he said, "And you're going to leave too."

Oh god. Her heart fell. He should be excited they had this time together, not terrified. Walking over to him, she cupped his cheek and rested her other hand on his shoulder. She had to hold the tears back and be strong for his sake. Tears would only increase his anxiety. "Stop it. I am not her, and I am not going to leave. I almost want to rip off this mask and get it over with so you stop fearing it, Jason. Look me in the eye right now and tell me you have such little faith in me that you honestly expect me to leave."

"You would stay because you'd feel guilty to go. But you would inwardly recoil from my touch. Your heart would leave in time, and I wouldn't blame you." A tear clung to his lashes.

"Let me see your face." She set her hands on his chest and searched his eye. "Show me right now so it's done," she begged. "I'm not going to stop loving you."

He ripped away and backed up, panic and anger burning in his eye.

Dropping her hands, she bowed her head in frustration. "Jason, this has to stop. We can't move forward if you're always ready for me to run." She looked at him with a heavy heart. "I want the house and two-and-a-half kids with you. You can give that, Jason. You choose not to. It's not me who is already walking away."

The look on his face said she'd struck a chord that shook him to his core. He stepped forward and untucked his shirt to lift it up.

It was a start. He seemed to finally understand it wasn't his scars and medical problems threatening to driver her away—it was him.

As she started working on the side of the deserted highway, he broke the silence. "If you do walk away, do it slowly so I see it coming," he said softly.

She looked up at him from where she knelt to apply a couple butterfly bandages and replace the one that had ripped during his coughing fit. "My love is strong enough to catch you. All you have to do is jump, Jason. I'm not going to let you fall."

He remained silent. When she stood and he helped her bag up the trash, he caught her arm. She looked up at him.

"I don't mean to blame you for things she did." He stroked her cheek.

It felt like a massive weight lifted off her chest. "I know." She cupped his hand on her face. "Sometimes I panic if you do something that reminds me of Gaston. It's human nature to learn from experience. We just need experiences together now to learn to trust each other."

He pulled her into his arms and embraced her tight. "Sometimes I get lost in the storm. But you never fail to rescue me."

She leaned back and looked at him. "No, Jason. A relationship that needs rescues isn't strong enough to survive. We are each strong enough to stand on our own; don't doubt your strength. We've each proven we can get through something hard on our own. We're simply facing some hard storms right now that will test our relationship. But together, we will weather anything."


	12. Chapter 12

"It says the hotel they booked for us is this next block on the left." Jason looked up from his phone GPS.

She turned into the parking lot of a two-story, decent looking hotel in the small town. "Well, it's not a backalley shack, and we're half way to Florida," she smiled and glanced at the clock. Half past eleven.

His eye nar rowed in on a group of people standing around a truck and drinking in the back corner of the lot. "I have doubts we're going to be staying here."

"It's almost an hour to the next place, according to the GPS. It can't be that bad. We just sleep and get up at daybreak." She grabbed her coat and popped the trunk. Jason slid out too, wearing the plastic mask.

He met her at the trunk. "Put your coat on," he ordered in a low voice tinged with stress. Then he grabbed both their suitcases quick. "Come on." It was a command to follow. Now.

Something had him worried. Her pulse quickened. Whenever the SEAL's instincts came out, she obeyed without question because he always had good reason. She glanced at him. Every line of his face looked tense, and she had to trot to keep up with his pace.

Someone whistled.

A vulnerable chill ran through her. Whether just paranoia from the rape, or instinct and premonition, she needed to be closer to Jason's safety. Without looking around, she grabbed Jason's arm being his hands held the suitcases. He should set them down so they could pull them, and then she could be closer to him. Ah, but the wheels on pavement would block out hearing footsteps approach. Smart man.

"Hey, sexy ass! Come on over and join our party!" a male voice called from across the parking lot. "Hey, you wanna fuck, baby?!"

Female laughs twinkled.

The panic burst like a balloon and rained down. Her hands shook and knees trembled. She crushed a fistful of his coat in her hand. The beating of her heart slammed against her ribs, threatening to crack them. Shit, there were five guys and one of Jason. Gang rape.

"Emma," Jason's voice cut in calm and soothing. "It's just crass talk. I'm not going to let them hurt you. Run ahead and get the key. It's under Jason Smith," he ordered. "I'm ten steps behind you."

She hurried without looking obvious and glanced out of the corner of her eye. Three large men stood beside the truck and watched with interest, and two couples sat in the back of the pickup making out. Darting inside, she trotted over to the desk clerk. "We have a room under Jason Smith for tonight. We're a bit in a hurry." Her voice quivered. She glanced over her shoulder to see Jason come through the doors.

The male clerk typed into the computer. "Prepaid?"

"Um, I think so." She glanced back. The party walked toward the glassdoors, hanging on each other and looking drunk.

Jason came up to the desk. "Keys now," he ordered and held out his hand. "And call the cops."

"What?" the man asked in confusion and looked up from the computer.

"Emma, get around the corner." He quickly shrugged off his coat and shoved her suitcase and his coat around the wall indentation leading to the reception desk. Then he returned to stand at the desk as if he was a single man checking in while she slipped out of sight.

"Hey, where'd she go? Dude, did you just come in here with a chick?" one of the men asked.

"I think you have me mistaken for someone else," Jason said calmly.

She tensed. These thugs would give Jason a hard time about the mask.

"Here are your keys, Mr. Smith. Room 246," the clerk said.

She squeezed her eyes shut. The idiot had just given away their alias and room number.

"Are you sure, man?" the guy pressed.

"I'm here on business. Good night, gentlemen." But Jason's footsteps didn't click across the tile floor.

High heels clicked on the floor. "Hey, sexy," a woman purred. "You wanna come with us? I'm free for someone with a bod like yours."

Her hands fisted. The panic dissipated a bit. The slut had better not touch him.

"Thank you, but it's late and I need to be up quite early for a flight," Jason replied, as cool as could be.

"No prostitution in here," the clerk said.

"I'm not. I said 'free,'" the woman snickered.

"You look like you need to get laid," another female voice added. "Come on, honey. I do whatever, your choice."

She ground her teeth, about ready to leap out and defend her man's honor. Now her heart beat with anger.

"Thank you, ladies, but I really must respectfully decline the offer."

Oh god. His manners alone would only make them itch to sink their claws into him.

"You sound like a highbred gentleman," the second woman purred in a way that sounded like she was probably touching him. "What's with the mask, sweetheart?"

Something tickled the top of her foot through the tennis shoe. She looked down. Slapping a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, she jumped nearly five feet. A big, fat cockroach skittered away. No way in hell would they stay here for the night.

"Goodnight, ladies," he answered a bit more forcefully.

One of the men stepped around and must've blocked Jason. She had to press against the wall to stay out of view. "What's the matter? Are our girls not good enough for ya?"

"It's not anything against the ladies. I simply need to get up in five hours and am tired. Excuse me."

"I don't think so," the man snarled.

Think, think! A fight of five men against Jason, he had an injured side, and they had a sexual interest in her. Think! No man would want to be within fifty feet of a laboring woman. She grabbed his coat, jammed it under her waist-length one, and stepped around the corner holding her back and pulling the suitcase. "The baby's coming! Now!"

Everyone looked at her in shock, even Jason.

The man who looked like he'd been about to throw Jason a punch glanced at her and then Jason in confusion.

She doubled over and let out a howl of pain to distract them again. "My water broke!" She stumbled over to Jason and grabbed his arm. "Take me to the hospital," she panted.

The clerk grabbed the phone. "I'll call an ambulance."

"No, it'll take too long to wait. Oh gooooood!" she screamed and doubled over again, breathing hard.

"Alright, alright!" Jason flung the key on the counter and swung her up into his arms. "Grab the suitcases! I'll pull up the car!" He ran out the door with her scream of pain echoing.

He ran across the parking lot carrying her as if she weighed a feather. "Thank you. I expected to get a mouthful of teeth."

She glanced over his shoulder to see the group coming out the doors with the suitcases. "They're watching." She covered his ear next to her and let out a scream of pain.

"God, Emma. If I wasn't terrified of childbirth before, I am now," he laughed quietly and set her in the passenger seat. He ran around and climbed in and then tore through the parking lot to the door.

She cracked the window. Just in case they wanted to cause trouble yet, she let out another howl when he whipped up to the door and popped the trunk. "I gotta push!" Then she let out a terrible agonized grunt.

The trunk slammed shut with the suitcases. "Go! Go!" one of the guys barked.

Jason floored it.

As soon as they were in the clear, she pulled out his jacket. He belly laughed and slowed down their speed. "That was amazing, Emma!" He caught her hand and kissed it.

Something tickled on her scalp. "Shit." She leaned down and shook her hair out. It was probably a cockroach. Oh god, oh god, oh god. "Jason!"

"What are you doing?"

"A cockroach crawled across my foot there. It feels like there's something in my hair," she whimpered.

He pulled over and flipped on the cabin light, remaining completely calm. "Hold still." Then he dug through her hair. He froze. "Just be calm. There's a little gnat," he said, as calm as could be. Then he dug very slow, his other hand rolling down the window.

"Oh god, what is it?" Should she scream?

"It's just a little bug, sweetheart." He snatched a fresh napkin out of the console and then reached up to her hair. He wouldn't use a napkin for a gnat. Then he flung something out the window and the napkin.

She screamed, more for the sake that he found anything.

"It's just a little bug," he said simply. "We gotta work on your screaming over things," he teased. Then he pulled into a gas station at the end of the block. "Hop out."

"Why?" But he was already out. She scrambled out, and he came around under the florescent lights.

"Bend down."

"What?"

He pushed on her back so she bent over with her head down. Then he started digging through her hair.

"What did you find?" she whimpered and curled her hands to her chest. Her heart raced. It was probably something gross.

"Emma, be still." He sounded serious. Then he shook out a section of her hair. Three small cockroaches less than an inch big fell on the ground.

She screamed in earnest this time.

* * *

Two hours later, she scrubbed her hair for the third time in a very expensive five-star hotel room Jason had bought for the night. The sweet man had checked the entire room for cockroaches, spiders, bed bugs, and pretty much any other parasite. Then he'd bleached down the bathroom. One thing that came in handy having a doctor: he was very conscientious about bacteria and viruses, but he'd been full of more information about contracting diseases in public places than she'd wanted to know.

A knock on the bathroom door. He must've cracked it open because his voice came through clear. "Sweetheart, it's almost two o'clock. I checked your hair twice. Shampoo kills cockroaches, so if anything was left in your hair, it's dead."

Of course he'd been a gentleman and had let her shower first. "We probably got lice and tapeworms from them," she said, almost in tears.

"Honey, you're overtired. Come on out and dry off while I shower. I'll check your hair one more time if you want. Don't step on the floor barefoot. You don't know when these carpets were last washed. There are brand new hotel slippers right here on the floor."

When she stepped out of the bathroom a couple minutes later, he stood shirtless on the other end of the room, careful not to touch anything. Stress contorted his face. "Scoot aside. I need to get in the shower. She touched my arm, and her hygiene was impeccably disgusting. She even left a dirty handprint on my shirt. Her eyes were jaundiced like she has hepatitis, and she had mouth sores like she has herpes." The poor man shot into the bathroom. "Don't touch the trashcan because my shirt is in there." The bathroom door slammed.

Her heart melted. He'd been out here freaking about diseases but had let her wash up first. She turned and looked at the big, plush bed. The one bed. At this point, she didn't care anymore. Shuffling over in her slippers, she kicked them off and climbed in. She sank into the mattress and the cool silk sheets carressed her arms and calves not covered by her cotton nightgown. Sweet heaven. For the heck of it, she turned over a slipper even though the beige carpets looked almost new. "Ew." A light gray film of dirt barely covered the bottom. Huh. Apparently the doctor knew what he was talking about with all the germs around a hotel room.

She pulled up the covers but left the plush comforter folded down at the foot of the bed. It looked like he'd done it on purpose. Probably another hygiene reason.

He stepped out a minute later wearing slippers and pajama bottoms and towel dried his hair. He made sure to keep the towel over the right side of his face.

"Did you want the comforter down?"

"Most places only wash the sheets. The comforter can go months without washings between clients. The suitcases stay in the bathroom where they're less likely to get bed bugs if there are any. I didn't see any signs of them, and frankly, I'm too tired to care if there are."

"Ew! Oh my god, I don't want to know this stuff, Jason."

He walked over. "If you travel with me, you won't contract any parasites or disease. Do you want me to check your hair again?"

"No, I'm too tired. Do you need me to rebutterfly your wound?"

"If you don't mind." He stepped over and handed her the strips.

Once they were placed, he walked over to the other side of the bed. "Thank you. I shouldn't ask, but I'm so tired..."

She flopped back and patted the empty side. "Get in here. If we manage to have sex being this tired, freakin' kudos to us."

He laughed, turned off the light, and practically dropped onto the bed. "There's no way in hell I'm waking up before sunrise to put on a mask. If you see my face, I don't care right now." The sheets russeled.

She laughed weakly with exhaustion. "If I had the energy, I'd turn on the light so we can get the damn thing over with right now. I don't think I can lift my hand, though."

He laughed a little too hard, portraying his overtired state.

"Did you take your inhaler?"

He started laughing madly, making her laugh. "If I suffocate tonight, I don't care."

She flopped the back of her hand on his chest, too tired to pat it properly. "Go get it."

"You get it. I had to be the exterminator tonight," he laughed and then made himself cough. The sheets russeled, followed by a loud thud and a curse.

"Are you alright?" Not that she even had the energy to lift her head. And it was dark.

"Don't walk straight. There's a wall." Then he inhaled loudly with the sound of a spray.

She laughed, finding his words funny for some reason. "Oh god. You know you can be so tired it's like being drunk? This must be what it's like being drunk."

He used the inhaler again. "Probably. Never had an interest in drinking because of Da." His lilt came out, and he dropped into bed.

"This is officially the worst honeymoon ever."

He chuckled and scooted her back to spoon against his chest. "I love you, Emma." Silence. "Are you awake?" he asked softly in the dark.

She was half way to slumberland being wrapped in his arms, too exhausted to answer.

So he snuggled up to her, tangling his feet with hers. "If this was our real honeymoon, I'd fly you wherever in the world you desired," he whispered, obviously thinking she was asleep. He nuzzled against her and his arm over her hip grew heavy. "I'd wait until our honeymoon to make love so we weren't tired from the wedding. I'd wait until the second night of the trip, just enjoying holding you as my wife and talking until all hours of the morning the first couple nights. Our third night as husband and wife, I'd make love to you so gently you would only know pleasure and love. You wouldn't be scared. Marry me, Emma," he whispered, his voice trailing away in sleep. His hand gave a tired, slow stroke to her belly. "Have babies with me," he sighed. He drew his next breath deeply, finally falling asleep.

Her heart melted and shattered from his words, but he'd rebuilt it stronger and fuller. Taking a soft breath so as not to wake him, she held back the tears. Hope swelled in her chest. One day he would propose in truth. One day he would be there waiting at the alter.


	13. Chapter 13

She rolled onto her back the next morning and stretched on the gloriously smooth sheets. Then she opened her eyes. Sunlight streamed through the patio door curtains to the right. The clock on the nightstand beside her read quarter to nine. Hadn't she gone to sleep on the other side of the bed? Turning her head, she looked at Jason.

He laid on his right side and smiled, the fluffy pillow hiding his scars. "Morning, sleeping beauty." His five o'clock shadow gave him a rugged, sexy appearance. How did a man wake up and look so hot?

She flushed and ran fingers through her tangled hair. Maybe she had bad breath and really messy hair. She should've woken up first to freshen up a bit. "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough. You are a cuddler when you sleep." He smiled.

She scooted closer, tucked her head under his chin to hide morning breath, and cocooned against him. "I don't remember waking up at all. Did we trade places last night?"

His arm wrapped around her. "I slid you over at sunrise to take advantage of this side."

"You said you didn't care if I saw." She smiled.

"I think I was tired drunk last night because I care today."

"Have you been awake that long?" She yawned.

"No, I fell back asleep for a bit. I just want to lie in bed all day with you." He sighed, sounding so relaxed.

"I'm scared to travel today," she giggled.

He groaned. "I don't care how far we get, we aren't checking in anywhere at midnight again. I dreamed you were really in labor. It was awful," he moaned in agony.

She wanted to bring up his words last night, but it might be better to just let his feelings simmer and not try to force them to boil. "It can't be that awful because women have multiple babies all the time. My mom said it hurt, but she never screamed having me."

"Any man who impregnates a woman should first have to go through some kind of torture equivalent to labor pain."

She laughed and kissed his chest. "That's one way to eradicate the human species." He laughed. Then she draped an arm over him and lazily ran her fingers up and down his back. "It won't be so bad having your babies." The seed had been planted. She smiled. It would soon start growing. Before he could respond, she rolled over to spoon. "It's twelve more hours there, right?" Her bottom brushed him. Either he was still waking up, or the idea of having babies aroused him.

Silence. "Um, yes." His voice seemed a little strained either with desire or distraction.

"Alright, we'd better get up. I'm all hormonal and really close to begging you to ravish me." She started to get out of bed.

"Oh no. PMS?"

"No, you can look forward to that in a couple weeks. Right now I want sex." Oh, she shouldn't taunt him like this, but hormones were hormones and were making her bold. She stood up but was pulled back into bed on her back.

"Now that is interesting," he smiled. His hand skimmed along her side.

"Jason, don't provoke me." Sweet heaven, she grew wet just from that innocent touch. She closed her eyes with a sigh and let her arms rest over her head on the pillow.

"Oh my. You aren't teasing." His hand brushed over her hard nipple.

A soft moan of pleasure broke past her lips. In a heartbeat, she rolled toward him, grabbing his hand and pressing it between her legs. "Oh god, Jason." Her head fell back, exposing her neck. "You have to stop," she panted, even as her hips rocked against his hand.

"I'll stop before things get too far," he whispered and kissed her throat.

She cupped the left side of his face and pressed against his hard body. "No, it's like a fever. I want to get pregnant right now. I might not stop in time," she panted.

"God, Emma, that's so hot for some reason." The gauze on the corner of his mouth brushed her neck. "I'll stop us," he promised.

The fever burned hotter and hotter. She reached down and stroked him, eliciting a moan. She wanted him hot and aggressive, this man whom would always be her protector. She pressed his fingertips through the nightgown and panties, able to barely to part her folds through the barriers. "Oh god, yes." Then she started rocking with a purpose, the material growing damp.

"Emma," he choked. "Jesus, I want to go in farther."

"Please," she begged. "Just your hand." She squirmed, trying to tug aside the barriers.

"No, sweetheart."

She whimpered and grabbed his other hand to squeeze her breast. The torture. And he wasn't even kissing.

He completely withdrew for a moment. Opening her eyes, she almost purred when he climbed on top of her wearing the mask. He gave a mischievous smile and then slid down her body. And took her breast in his mouth.

She gasped in pleasure and her eyes rolled back. His mouth soaked the material, practically removing any barrier. His tongue stroked and teased, and he rolled the nub between his fingers. Then his other hand stroked and rocked between her legs, one finger barely dipping in through the material. His bare muscles coiled and flexed with such hardness and power. She buried her fingers in his hair and trembled. "Jay," she whimpered, sitting on the edge. Her hips rose to meet the thrusts of his hand.

Then he said something in his roguish burr, his lilt deep and erotic even though the slang was indecipherable. He shifted and then whispered against her ear, "Aye, me bonnie lass, tell me yer pleasures."

Oh sweet mercy, the wicked man probably knew what his accent would do. Her breasts tightened and nails scratched across his shoulders as she arched into him. Colors exploded behind her eyelids and a warm flush swept through her body. Her heart thundered and she couldn't breathe for a moment from the intensity. His strokes slowed from forceful and quick to gentle and slow while continuing to lick her breasts. Her lips parted in ecstasy at the pleasure he suspended, and her hands roamed his hard back and silky hair. Her breaths came in soft, slow pants.

Then he kissed her, his tongue slipping past her lips as much as he could with the mask. "I love ye," he whispered, his burr slipping away.

Something about the way he said it so quiet and tender tipped her over the edge of the soft orgasm he'd suspended her in. She clung to him, her legs wrapping around his thighs as her body coiled around him and then so slowly blossomed. "I love you," she whispered, falling into the most intense yet gentle pleasure she'd ever known.

He breathed hard in her ear and slowly pulled his hand away to brace against the bed. His arousal pressed against her hip, quivering for release.

"I wish you could spill into me," she whispered. He tensed, fighting the pleasure. The sweet man responded so intensely to innocent things and seemed to secretly harbor a baby fever. "Sink far inside and put a baby in me, Jay," she whispered.

A choked cry escaped him, and his hand slid down to her bottom, his fingers biting into her flesh. His raw power released, lifting her hips to meet his and rock forcefully against her thigh. He caught her hands and interlaced their fingers, pressing them down on each side of her shoulders. His kiss made her moan as his tongue dove in her mouth, swept across her tongue in one swift move to tease. Then his weight settled so his chest rubbed her breasts as he rocked. Oh god, he'd be so hot and powerful when making love. Then soft moans escaped him, and he slowed to long, hard thrusts of release. He half collapsed, panting hard and leaning on his elbows to not crush her. The weight of his his hips, however, did a glorious job of sinking her hips into the mattress. "You can't pull out the baby card when I'm in charge of us not making love."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, brushing a kiss over his shoulder. "I didn't think talk of babies would get you hard," she whispered in his ear.

"Liar," he growled and nipped her earlobe.

"Let's get married and have this be our real honeymoon," she smiled, testing the water. "Odds are we could go home expecting a baby, if we wanted."

He chuckled and let his hands roam up and down her sides, seeming to devour the curves. "You really are hormonal. It's a good thing you'll be strapped in the car so you can't jump me." He laughed and climbed off, disappearing into the bathroom. And leaving no clue as to how serious his words had been last night.

When he came out all dressed and freshly shaven, she slipped into the bathroom. Getting ready as fast as possible to seem like she required hardly any maintenance, she opened the door less than five minutes later to see him standing there with a grin.

"That was quite of bit of banging around." His eye twinkled. "There's no rush, sweetheart. Shall I order breakfast?"

Forcing down a blush, she couldn't hold back a shy smile. "Sure."

"What would you like? They have pancakes, French toast, sausages, omelets, mimosas, orange juice, coffee..."

She looked at him with a smile. "Can I have a cinnamon role and milk?"

He chuckled. "An easy lady to please. Cinnamon roles and milk it is."

A half hour later, someone knocked on the room door while she finished French braiding her hair in the bathroom. Jason opened the door.

"I have your breakfast, sir. Where would you like it?" It was a young female voice, tinged with nervousness.

"On the table over there, please." Silence. "Is everything alright?" he asked in concern.

"Um, is there anyone else in the room, sir?"

She frowned. The poor thing sounded frightened. She stepped out of the bathroom, still wrapping the rubberband around the end of her hair. Jason held the door open, and the college age girl stood with the cart in the hall.

"Just my wife and I." Jason met her eyes when she stopped beside him.

"Oh." The girl seemed to relax a bit and pushed the cart in.

She exchanged a worried glance with him when the dishes clattered in the girl's hand as she set the table. Walking over, she stood beside the girl. "Is everything alright?"

The girl flushed but continued setting things out. "Sorry. Sometimes businessmen come and get ideas."

She glanced at him, and he frowned. "How old are you?" Jason asked. It was easy to imagine this attractive young girl getting unwanted attention.

The girl finished and stepped back, looking from her to Jason in confusion. "Twenty."

He leaned a hip against the dresser and crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you looking for other employment? Are you in college?"

Hesitating for a moment, the girl shook her head. "I'm from Washington but followed an old boyfriend out here."

"If you're interested in a secretary position for a nonprofit in California, I might know of something. Mind you that if you do well and you like it, you will have to attend college. The founder will pay ten thousand dollars a year in tuition. Grades must be 'C' or better."

Her heart melted. The last time she'd seen the books for Charlotte's Hope, he didn't actually have a position open. He must be about to create one.

The girl looked at him sideways. "What's the catch?"

He looked the girl straight in the eye. "You stay with the company at least two years after finishing college. Employee retention is ninety seven percent, so I don't believe you'd have a wish to leave." He pulled out his wallet and handed the girl a business card for CHarlotte's Hope. "Call that number and tell the woman that her friend Marcus T. sent you." Then he handed the girl a thirty dollar tip.

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Her eyes lit up, and she hurried out.

She turned and wrapped her arms around him. "Do you go around saving every damsel in distress?"

He cracked a smile and shrugged, resting his hands on her hips. "Watching my mother struggle, let's just say I have a soft spot for the fairer sex. It's not fair, but men still have an easier time than women in this world."

"Marcus T.?"

"It's code with the woman in HR at the hospital. I'm Marcus, and 'T' is 'trial' or 'temp,' and 'P' is 'permanent.' She'll do the interviews and everything, but generally anyone I send over is hired."

She rested her head on his chest. "It's so strange, Jason, to go from Gaston directly to a man as good as you. Sometimes I fear I'm dreaming and you aren't real."

He held her tight. "Sometimes I think I dreamt you too, angel," he whispered in a thick voice. Then he clearned his throat and pecked a kiss on her forehead. "Let's eat and get on the road." He let go and turned his back, leaving her baffled at his sudden coldness. But he brushed at his eye and said in a thick voice, "You know how to bring me to my knees so easily, Em."

* * *

He pulled over the car on the side of the interstate at eight o'clock that night, got out, and started digging in the trunk. For ten minutes he tried flagging down cars before he finally got back in and slammed the door. "Well, we have a flat tire, and there's no bar in the trunk to change it." He pulled his phone out and heaved a sigh. "No cell reception." He leaned his forehead on the steeringwheel.

"No breaker bar? Well, at least we're not throwing up anymore from the fish at lunch." She gave a weak laugh.

"Pardon my French but I say screw this damn 'honeymoon' cover. We take the jet and go to Fiji."

She rubbed his back and laughed. "We're three hours away from Florida. Watch and learn, babe." She shook her braid out and undid the top few buttons of her blouse.

"What are you doing?" He didn't sound pleased.

"Sometimes you gotta use whatcha got." She hiked up her knee length skirt a bit and got out.

"Emma!"

She shut the door and walked around to the trunk. Then she leaned a hip against the trunk and tossed her hair when the cars passed.

Jason got out and slammed the door, stalking over. "Get in the car," he ordered. "Some lunatic will pull over and-"

Waving a hand to shoo him, she said, " _You_ get in the car. You're scaring help away."

Thunder cracked overhead.

He cussed. "Emma, I'm really not in a good mood and still feel like I'm going to heave. Get in the car before it rains and you catch your death or some psycho pulls over to kidnap you." The poor man looked pale. Then he stilled and turned green. In a split instant, he ran for the embankment and threw up.

She flagged down a sports car that pulled up behind her. A man her age stepped out, wearing a business suit. "Do you need help?"

With a glance at Jason on the side still heaving himself inside out, she looked at the man. "I have a flat tire but no thingy to change it." She batted her eyes and twirled a lock of hair around her finger.

He popped his trunk and threw his jacket in his car. "I got one. I can change it before the rain hits." Then he grabbed the bar and came over, kneeling beside her to start working fast.

"Oh, thank you. Wow, I wasn't sure I would get those screw things off by myself," she said, ready to gag trying to sound so incompetent. But she always struggled to lift the tires on and Jason was in no shape for physical labor. She glanced over at Jason, who sat in the grass looking too pale to get up. Yet looking ready to punch the guy if he caused trouble.

The man rolled up his sleeves and easily loosened the bolts. "No problem. I'm Matt, by the way. Where are you headed to this late?" He flashed a kind smile up at her.

"Oh, I'm just heading out to meet a friend." Being vague was good just in case he was a psychopath.

When he lifted off the tire, he switched out the spare that Jason had put beside the car. "Did you get this tire out yourself? It's pretty heavy for a slip of a thing like you."

She frowned. "I can handle myself." Oops. That didn't match the dumb helpless maiden act.

Matt laughed and hefted up the tire. "I imagine you can. I'm a lawyer and can spot a faker from a mile away." He gave her a pointed smile.

Busted. She flushed. "My husband over there got food poisoning, and I didn't think anyone would help if they saw him."

He frowned. "Is he alright? Maybe you should take him to the hospital." Then he started wrestling the bolts back on the car. "Do you need help getting him back to the car?"

"No, thanks. He seems better than a couple hours ago, but I don't know that he's up to changing a tire." This man seemed too nice to be a lawyer. "What kind of law do you practice?"

"Patent," he replied and stood up.

"Oh. That explains why you're nice," she teased.

He laughed and picked up the flat tire. She opened the trunk. "I charge three hundred an hour, just so you know," he winked.

She laughed. "For that price, I'd try changing the tire with a stick."

He loaded the tire, with a smile, and then helped her reload the suitcases.

She shut the trunk and turned to him. "Thank you so much. Oh no, your shirt." Black streaks covered the white dress shirt. "Let me give you money to get it dry cleaned or a new one."

With a shake of his head, he smiled. "I can afford a new shirt. I'm just glad it was me who pulled over and not some creep." Lightning flashed and thunder followed a few seconds later. "Let's go see if your husband needs help getting to the car."

She walked over with him. Jason pushed himself to his feet, looking a bit unsteady. Slipping under his arm, she started leading him to the car. Matt, almost as big as Jason, grabbed his other arm.

"Thank you for changing the tire." Jason eased his arm away from the man even though he still leaned on her.

Why did he seem so terse? She glanced at Jason and then Matt. The men seemed to be sizing each other up. Tension filled the air.

"Thank you so much, Matt." She slipped her hand in Jason's pocket for his wallet being she didn't have more than twenty dollars to her name.

He held up a hand. "No, it's just a good samaritan gesture. If you're alright, I'll be off." He gave a terse nod to Jason and then smiled at her.

"Thank you." She helped Jason to the passenger side of the car while Matt got in his car. "Jason, you were a bit rude." It seemed so unlike him.

"He had his eye on you to ask you out. It's reason enough to be rude," he grumbled.

She sighed and walked around to the passenger seat, closing the door just before the downpour started. "Are you doing alright?"

He leaned his head back on the headrest and nodded, looking so pale and exhausted underneath the bruises still tattooing his face.

"Do you mind if I turn on the radio? It helps keep me from getting tired."

"That's fine. Are you alright to drive? We can stop for the night."

"If you're fine to keep going, I just wanna get there."

Two hours later, Jason seemed to be deeply asleep. Exhaustion started to kick in, so she found a country station and started singing along with the female vocalist belting out a song about kicking butt after an abusive relationship. She got wrapped up in it. The song ended and she glanced at Jason to see if he still slept so deep. She startled. He was staring at her with a wide eye.

"Emma, you should be a singer."

"Oh god," she muttered, utterly mortified, and kept her eyes on the road. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much. Seriously, Em. If a producer heard you, you'd be snatched up."

A warm fuzzy tingling swept through that he thought her so good. "You, sir, were supposed to be sleeping. I don't sing in front of anyone."

He let it drop, but a smile tugged at his lips.

When she pulled into the hotel at one o'clock, the switch of energy flipped off in her. She had to hold his hand while he dragged her through the lobby and up to the room. Both of them were wet from the rain. Standing in the room, half asleep and too exhausted to think, she stumbled into the bathroom when he said it was ready for her to shower off. When she stepped out, barely able to keep her eyes open, she fell into bed when he said it was clear of bed bugs.

Only distantly aware of anything as the sandman called her name, her body started to relax. Jason's soft words didn't even register as she drifted off. "Sweetheart, you can't go to bed in a wet towel." Then the dampness pulled away and was replaced with soft cotton sheets. Something warm and soft brushed over her forehead. "Good night, sweetheart."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Thanks for the sweet review, YazminXD, and thanks for reviewing each chapter. This chapter was kinda dark the first time, but I rewrote it quick before your last final being I haven't posted for a couple days.**

 **Good luck to everyone in finals. :)**

 **Thanks for the reviews since Chapter 8, Guest, Callico11852, Singingsilent, Caroltrivilini, and Sophia. I got lazy and skipped author notes over Memorial Day weekend. :)**

* * *

The next morning, she rolled over in bed and looked around. This room didn't look familiar. How had she gotten in this room? Looking to the left, the bed was empty. Where was Jason? She shot upright, the sheet skimming down her skin. She looked down and gasped. Her clothes...were gone. Scooping up the cool sheet over her breasts, she looked around the room. Jason laid on a cot at the foot of the bed, the good side of his face turned up and away. He sighed and flopped onto his stomach, pulling the pillow over his head. The sheet fell to his waist, baring his back.

"Why am I naked?" she demanded.

The pillow popped up a little. "Huh?" Sleep threaded through his voice.

"Did we have sex?" Not the worst thing in the world, but they probably hadn't used protection. As much as she loved him, she didn't want a shotgun wedding.

His head dropped back to the bed, and he mumbled from under the pillow, "You came out of the shower with only a wet towel on. I pulled it off so you wouldn't chill..." His voice faded away, as if he'd fallen asleep again.

"And?"

He stirred. "And I went to bed." Soft snores followed.

She flopped back and stared at the ceiling. At least they wouldn't spend the next two weeks panicking about a possible pregnancy. And the strong preference was to remember having hot wild sex with Dr. Port. Vague memories of arriving at the hotel last night surfaced. Everything after that was blank.

Nibbling her lip, she lifted her head and glanced over at Jason. He seemed to be deep asleep again. She slipped out from under the sheets and darted for the bathroom where he'd probably stashed the suitcases. Only the bathroom was empty. Wonderful. As if running around naked wasn't bad enough, now she'd walked on the carpets barefoot. She leaned a hand down on the counter to look at the bottom of her feet. And jerked her hand away. The counter was probably dirty yet! Now her feet and hand probably had five diseases crawling on them. Grabbing the soap bar and turning on the water to wash, the bar slid right out of her hands and down into the bottom of the sink. She stared in disgust. Why not? Fifty types of germs probably congregated down there from God knows how many people have washed what off their hands in there. She whimpered, getting more disgusted by the minute. So she shut off the water with her wrist and tiptoed to the shower. He'd said she'd showered last night, and he wouldn't have let her get in one he hadn't bleached down.

When she leaned down to turn on the shower, her foot slipped. She grabbed the first thing to catch herself...in the toilet bowel. And a large portion of her hair dunked in too. Landing on her hip on the floor, she stared at the toilet, too horrified to speak. Slowly lifting her dripping hair and hand out of the toilet, she screeched, "Oh my god!" There were probably a hundred diseases in the toilet. So she did the only thing left to do on this horrible fake honeymoon: she burst into tears.

He shot into the bathroom in a panic wearing his mask. "Emma, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Dropping her head, the humiliation complete having him see her naked on the bathroom floor and half covered in toilet water, the tears turned into sobs. "I'm covered in diseases," she wailed.

He wrapped a towel around her and carefully lifted her up into the tub. "Tell me what happened," he said gently, as if consoling a distressed child. He knelt beside the tub and brushed her tears away.

"I went to get my clothes and walked across the floor barefoot, and then I touched the dirty counter and dropped the soap in the sink. Then I tried to get in the shower and fell in the toilet!" she sobbed. "I'm gonna die from getting a thousand germs."

"Sweetheart, I already bleached the bathroom last night. The toilet is probably safe enough, but we'll get you washed up." He wiped away her fresh tears. "It's alright, love."

"And you saw me naked," she hiccupped.

"Oh, honey." He leaned down to meet her eyes, sweeping aside a dry lock of hair from her face. "I didn't pay much attention because I thought you were hurt. Don't cry."

"This is the worst fake honeymoon. I wanna go back to your home," she whimpered.

"Emma, we're finally here. It can only get better. Get washed up, and then let's go shop for some summer clothes for you. We'll go blow some money doing fun things today, alright?" He smiled with a wink.

She sniffled and nodded, his cheeriness making it all seem a bit less awful.

When she stepped out of the shower, her suitcase waited beside the door with a note.

 _Meet me on the patio, love._

All the pet names he seemed so free to use lately made her smile. Once she had on a tank top and knee-length floral cotton skirt, she stepped behind the patio curtain out onto the balcony and gasped.

Their room must've been on the fourth or fifth floor, and it faced the ocean. The sunrise entered the world as a vibrant rainbow stretching across the bluest sky. Dolphins chattered and jumped in the whitecap waves while the warm ocean breeze caressed over her skin and dried her wet ponytail. Not a soul crossed the vast beach yet.

Jason had set up the small patio table with pancakes and orange juice. A white rose lay beside the glass that didn't have a straw. Her heart fluttered.

He stepped over and slipped an arm around her waist as they looked out over the water. "Better?" He ran a hand over her ponytail.

She nodded and looked up at him. "Is your food poisoning gone?"

"It is. Did you sleep well?"

His eye held such tenderness and intimacy that she looked away and flushed. Her heart beat skipped a beat. Just get through two weeks alone with him without sex. "I did. Did you sleep well on that cot?"

A smile crinkled his eye, and he chuckled. "I was too tired to know if I didn't. I was tempted to crawl into bed with you last night, though."

Even though a carnal thought could not cross the man's mind, her pulse quickened. With a shy smile, she sat in the chair he pulled out.

* * *

The red skirt hugged too tight and revealed far too much leg. The magical white fitted t-shirt somehow enlarged almost nonexistent breasts into plump mounds.

"You agreed I get to see what you try on," he chuckled from the other side of the wood-slated dressing room door. His shoes peeked through underneath where he leaned against the wall of the one-room dressing area.

She glanced at the tags. "This place is a tourist ripoff, and I'm not coming out like this. I look like a hooker."

"Are you dressed?"

"Yeah," she frowned.

He peeked over the top of the door. "Oh ho, I need to see this up close." He grinned and opened the door.

She flung her arms over her breasts and tried to pull down the skirt with the other hand. "You can't come in here!" she gasped at the scandal.

The man ignored her, his eye perusing. He took her hand and turned her in a slow circle. "You're right, you're not stepping out of here wearing that." Desire flared in his eye. Then he slipped an arm around her waist and jerked her close. She tumbled against his chest, apparently his intent. He caught her leg and wrapped it around his thigh, leaving little doubt as to the direction of his thoughts. His voice fell to a husky rasp. "Buy it. Please. So I can rip it off." Then he held up four fingers. "I promise no sex, Scout's honor."

A belly laugh burst out and she pushed against his chest to stand up. "You weren't a Scout, and that's not the symbol."

He wiggled his eyebrow. "I guess that means I don't have to keep my promise." He reached for her with that adorable boyish grin that tended to appear when he wanted to cause trouble.

She laughed and set a hand on his chest to keep him away. "Behave. I already have three outfits out there." Then she pushed him out the door and closed it. She turned to the mirror. Damn, it made her ass look good.

The music over the speakers changed to a teenage girl pop song. Jason's head popped over the top of the door, and she startled. He mouthed the lyrics. She burst out laughing. His head slowly lowered behind the door, but his feet danced below to the fast beat. Then when the lyrics came to the chorus of 'I love you' a second later, his head popped up again and he pointed at her, bobbing to the beat. He looked absolutely absurd mouthing teenage girl lyrics. Her stomach hurt from laughing so hard. And then his face screwed up pretending to belt out the high note.

"Is everything satisfactory?" an older female voice asked, full of disapproval.

Jason startled and cleared his throat, suddenly his quiet dapper self. "Yes, thank you."

The clerk's feet disappeared from under the door. She slapped her hands over her mouth to keep from roaring with laughter.

His feet paced on the other side of the door. "Let's go, Emma. Stop dancing around in there," he said loudly.

She gasped at him trying to blame her and pulled off the t-shirt. Then she threw it over the door at him.

"Missed me," he chuckled. "I-"

The skirt apparently nailed him in the face. "What's the score? Oh, bam! One to nothing!" she giggled and started getting dressed.

"Can I look over the door?"

"No!" She snatched up her shirt.

He chuckled. "What was that? Score what?"

She rolled her eyes and got dressed. "That doesn't count."

"Five, four, three, two, one! Oooh, too late with a comeback. Bam! That's what I'm talkin' about, girl! I stole your point." His feet started doing a victory dance.

She burst out laughing. Then she opened the door. "Careful, old man."

He pulled a pretty impressive breakdance move. "Ain't no old man around here, sister. I'm down with the homeboys."

"Whoa, did you see that?" She blinked.

He stopped and looked at her. "What?"

"Exactly. I just ran a lap around you, and you didn't see it, old timer."

His mouth dropped open.

"Oooh, burn. Score: two to zero. I stole back your point!"

"No steal backs. That's the rule," he declared.

Pooching her lower lip, she looked up at him with big eyes.

"Oh, you can't pull that." He pointed a finger at her and backed up with a smile.

She added in the sad head bow and batted mournful eyes at him.

"Fine," he sighed and stepped forward to give her a kiss.

When he lifted his head, she smiled. "I get a point for getting you to give my point back," she whispered. Then she drew an imaginary tick mark. "Score: three to zero. Bam!" Then she threw her hands up in a victory dance over to the checkout counter.

He threw his head back and laughed.

The saleswoman gave him dirty looks during checkout for his monkey business, but he remained calm and dignified. She had to walk away before she snorted from trying not to laugh.

When they exited to the sidewalk, she slipped an arm through his, the gesture so automatic now. "Thank you for the clothes." She smiled up at him.

He carried the bag himself and glanced at her. "You're welcome, sweetheart." Then his eyes skimmed the shop-lined street beginning to fill with people. Not seeming to find what he wanted, he pulled out his phone.

"Are you looking for something?" She frowned and leaned over to see what he typed into the Internet browser.

"A jewelry store. They forgot to give us rings, which could raise suspicions if anyone notices being it's a honeymoon."

Huh. That would look odd, but it'd probably be close to half a grand to spring for wedding rings. And no way would he get reimbursed by the FBI for something like that. "That's a lot of money. We can just say we're liberal and don't believe in branding ourselves with rings or something weird like that."

But he smiled and tugged her down the street.

The small shop had a quaintness about it and quite a few glass cases of rings. Jason closed the door as she wandered the the twenty-foot room. Large, contemporary diamond rings to antique sapphire rings lined the walls. Many of them appeared to be engagement rings. And all of them were stunning.

An older, plump man with a white beard came out of a back room. "Good morning. Is there anything I can help you with?" The dear man only did a double take of Jason's mask but didn't react. She liked him instantly.

Jason joined her and set a hand on the small of her back. "My fiancé and I are just browsing for wedding rings. How long does it typically take for wedding bands to be sized and ready?"

"If you have time, I can have them done within a half hour."

"Excellent."

"Do you know what metal and your sizes?"

Jason looked down at her.

"We should just get what's cheapest," she whispered.

He looked at the jeweler. "No to both." He smiled and led her over to the man.

The clerk pulled out a tray from a case and set it in top. Several rows of silver and gold rings of various sizes shined. "These are platinum, white gold, rose gold, yellow gold...anything you could think of. What speaks to you?"

She waited for Jason to ask about pricing. Both men simply looked at her. "Oh. Nothing expensive." She flushed.

He rubbed her back. "We can figure out pricing later. What do you like?"

Nibbling her lip, she pointed at the rose gold and glanced at Jason to see if he liked it too. He simply smiled and gave a nod.

"Ah. This metal can only be traced back to the 1800s in Russia. It is a mix of gold and copper. It rose in popularity in the mid-Victorian Era and is quite popular now. It does well with most skin tones." He looked at her hand and pulled out a ring. "Your fingers are delicate. I believe a five-and-a-half would fit you." He handed it to her.

It slipped right on. "You're good." She smiled and handed him the ring.

Then he handed Jason a ring. "I think a ten might do it." It didn't quite go over his knuckle. "We'll go up a size." A perfect fit. "Alright, an eleven and a five-and-one-half." He put the tray back in the case. "Wedding rings are over here." He walked to the other end of the store. "Are you looking for plain, etched, or studded bands?" He pulled out some trays.

Jason looked to her as they walked over. She frowned. He really was not being helpful with keeping pricing down. And he kept standing back a bit. It really would be helpful if he'd help make a decision. There was no reason why they needed to be here at a jewelry store for fake rings instead of a vending machine. "I assume plain are cheaper?"

The jeweler shook his head. "Not necessarily."

"Emma, just say what strikes you." He set a hand on her lower back and stepped up beside her. "We'll figure out pricing in a bit."

She pressed her lips together. He was wasting this poor man's time and hope when they just needed something basic and cheap. "Plain." Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she looked away to calm down her temper. And spotted engagement ring in the next case to the right. A silver laced oval about an inch long glittered under the lights. Small sapphires studded it throughout, lending the appearance of a lattice of flowers.

The jeweler smiled and pulled out the engagement ring tray. "Does something catch your fancy?"

"Oh. No." She shook her head and looked at the tray of wedding rings in front of her. But her eye darted back to the engagement ring.

The jeweler picked it right out among the tray. Damn, he was good. Then he brought it over and held it out. "My best estimate is this is from 1840s or 1850s. Very classic back then before diamonds. All rings were handmade and one of a kind. See the slight irregularity of the lacing? A total of a half caret of sapphires."

It was beautiful. But trying it on would make it hard to give it back. "No, thank you. We just need the wedding bands." Knowing Jason, he'd buy anything no matter the cost if she showed too much interest.

"What do you like about it so much?" Jason took it from the jeweler and studied the ring, turning it this way and that.

"I don't really like the silver, but it's so unique." She touched it and then jerked her hand back. Jason would probably have one made in gold just becaus she liked it.

"Are you looking for an engagement ring?" The man looked at her naked finger and then Jason.

Jason studied her for a moment. Even though she shook her head, he said, "Perhaps. She wasn't keen on the idea at first, but perhaps she'll change her mind." He smiled his encouragement. He handed the man back the ring.

She scowled. What was the idiot doing? They had no need for an engagement ring. Fine. She'd prove her point. "How much is it?" she asked, holding Jason's eye. He frowned severely.

"Ummmm..." The jeweler seemed to hesitate. Jason shook his head at the man.

She spun around looked at the tiny sticker on the tray. "Three thousand." It took a lot of conscious effort to not drop her jaw. "I'm not wearing what would feed an entire third world country."

The jeweler looked a bit baffled, but Jason simply smiled and locked his hands behind his back. "I was gifted with a practical woman. Just the wedding rings, my good man."

The jeweler kept the prices out of sight after that. Each time she inquired if something would be cheaper than something else, he'd look at Jason, who shook his head to not answer. "Excuse us." She finally grabbed Jason's arm and dragged him outside. Then she whirled around. "What are you doing? We just need something that we could get at a flea market for fifty bucks. Those probably cost at least two hundred each."

He frowned. "Why are you so stressed about the money? It's not like I don't have enough. That's the normal price of wedding rings, Emma."

She threw up her hands and frowned severely. How could the man be this outrageous? "For a real marriage! This is fake. For two weeks. They'll end up in boxes or the trash."

Raw pain flashed through his eye for a moment before he returned to his normal composed self in the next blink of an eye. "You're right." He stepped though the door. "Thank you for your time." Then he set his hand on the small of her back and started down the sidewalk.

She looked up at him, suddenly deflated at the instant win to that argument. He seemed...hurt. "Jason?"

He pulled out his phone and typed in something. "There's a flea market a half hour away open tomorrow." Then he pocketed the phone. "Are you hungry for lunch?"

She set her hands on his chest to stop him. "Jason, what's wrong? You seem upset since I said that."

He frowned and shook his head like she was being silly. Then he caught her hand and pulled her along. But he didn't play or tease anymore.

He was still a bit quiet when they got back to the hotel with their sandwiches. "I'm antsy not having gone on a run the past couple days. Do you mind if I go for a swim?" He didn't look at her.

He needed to clear his head is what had him antsy. "Jason, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"Emma, don't be silly." He dug his swim trunks out of his suitcase. "I know this is a two-week farce and then you're going back to your life in Kansas." He flashed a terribly forced smile and flung the trunks over his shoulder. Then he set his wallet and phone on the bathroom counter and walked out.

Her heart dropped. Oh no. It all made sense now. He'd taken her to the jeweler's to get a sense of her style preferences for real engagement and wedding rings.


	15. Chapter 15

She sat on the patio alone, with the fresh breeze blowing away some of the humidity. A shirtless figure swam in deep water parallel to the shore, his breaststrokes slicing through the water with power and grace. Each stroke spoke of regret and heartache. Back and forth, back and forth he swam the length of the shore. He must've swum a mile and still showed no signs of tiring.

The guilt compounded with each lap. Her words had been so insensitive, even mean considering his secret agenda. He must've been warming up to the idea of marriage.

After probably two miles of laps, he swam far down the beach to a deserted area and trod out of the water. The solitude and loneliness of him standing alone on the beach vibrated across the sand. He must not be wearing the mask. Something with such simplicity as coming out of water isolated him from the world. He dried off, sat down in the sand, and looked out over the water, running a hand through his hair with such sadness.

She got up and dug out his shorts and a short-sleeved shirt so he could go directly into the bathroom and not fumble with clothes while trying to hide his face. The humidity grew thicker every minute in preparation for the daily afternoon storms, and he shouldn't wear slacks and a dress shirt with his heat intolerance. She set the clothes on the bathroom counter.

Then she stepped out on the patio again. He was gone. A lone figure swam laps again. Her heartstrings tugged. Something more than the words troubled him. Getting up, she grabbed the room key and her shoes. But maybe he needed the solitude. She stopped midreach for the doorknob and stared at it. He deserved his wishes for time alone to be respected, but sometimes the man wanted more privacy than was good for him. Minutes ticked by. Footsteps padded down the hall.

Looking out the peephole, she opened the door. He had a hand raised to knock and looked surprised, with the towel draped on his head to block his face and his clothes in his other hand. He rubbed his hair dry. "Oh. Thank you. I left my key." He stepped in.

"I set some clothes in the bathroom for you." She shut the door and turned to him.

Again, he blinked in surprise. "Thank you. I'll shower off quick." He took a step toward the bathroom.

He seemed so solemn and withdrawn...much like he'd been a few months ago. "Jason? I'm sorry. Can we talk when you get out? I came across mean when I didn't intend it that way at all." She nibbled her lip and clasped her hands together to keep from embracing him when he probably wanted distance.

The man simply shook his head. "You didn't come across as mean." His manner remained formal and distant. A 'Ms. Hoplin' at the end of his words wouldn't have come as a surprise.

"Jason, don't push me away." She laid a hand on his shoulder. "We need to talk."

He didn't flinch but didn't warm up either. "Of course," he replied with a slight nod. Then he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving her staring.

She paced for the few minutes the water ran in the bathroom, her stomach churning and twisting. Opening up the roll of calcium tablets, she popped the last one. The other medicine she'd started this morning didn't seem to be helping. Or maybe the tension wasn't helping.

He came out in the khakis shorts and gray shirt, the strength in his arms and thick calves not veiled. The mask, of course, covered his face again. And an invisible mask shielded his emotions.

Something in his eye halted her from taking a step closer. Something in him seemed so vulnerable and ready to shatter, so close to shutting down. "Do you need help changing your bandage?"

He looked at her for but a second, his gaze saying everything and yet nothing she could understand. It may as well have been a foreign language. "No, thank you." Then he walked past to the fridge and pulled out his sandwich, pausing when he spotted hers. "You didn't eat lunch?" He set his back in, closed the fridge, and turned to face her.

"I waited for you," she said with a frown. Why shouldn't she wait for him?

"I didn't ask you to wait." His tone tensed with displeasure.

She frowned. "Jason, I'm sorry about this afternoon-"

"Emma, I lost view of reality. You're right. This is an act and those rings will be in the trash in a few days." He looked away. "We've only known each other a couple months. I didn't think and just..." The anger and pain leaked out through his voice.

Her heart twisted. "No, I didn't think." She stepped closer and rested her hands on his warm, hard chest. When he gently caught her wrists and eased her hands away, her heart split right down the middle.

"What are we doing, Emma? This ends in two weeks. You go back to your life-"

A bitter laugh bubbled up. "What life? Waitressing in a bar with drunks and an apartment so small I feel like I'm living in a box?" Tears blurred him. "The numb life of being without you?"

He shook his head. "I have a colleague who needs a medical writer. He'd pay you well and you can work remotely-"

The frustration swam up. Goddamn him for trying to push her away. "I don't give a damn about work!" She tried to push on his chest, but he still held her wrists. Her anger faded as fast as it'd come. "I want you," she whispered and rested her forehead on his chest.

His voice rang quiet and gentle. "I'm not good for you, Emma."

Jerking her head up, she rip her hands out of his, fire burning her eyes.

He reached out to catch her upper arms. "Stop," he said with such calmness and looked her in the eye.

An angry red whip mark wrapped twice around his right forearm. She frowned and caught his arm for a closer look. "What happened?" It almost looked ready to bleed.

"Just a jellyfish. It's fine." He tried to withdraw his arm.

Her grip tightened and she looked at him. "That's not 'just a jellyfish.' Was it a Man o' War? Did you treat it?" She felt his pulse for arrhythmia.

"Yes, but it was small and I already treated it with vinegar."

"It's said to be terribly painful. That's largely why you're being so withdrawn." She grabbed the salt from the table and then his hand, dragging him into the bathroom. "Vinegar is for jellyfish, but a Man o' War is a sinonophore, not a jellyfish. It should be treated with saltwater and heat to neutralize the toxins." Then she opened the medical bag on the counter and grabbed gloves to avoid contaminating herself. "Why are you so stubborn?" she mumbled and dug through the bag. "Do you have saline packed?" She lifted a box of gauze before he could answer. A large vial of saline lay beneath. Opening a new syringe, she filled it with the solution and removed the needle. Then she pulled his arm over the sink and turned on the faucet to get warm water through the pipes. She irrigated his poor arm that began to bleed. A couple spots already threatened to blister. "Are you sure you feel alright?" She glanced at him.

The lines of his beautiful face contorted in pain, but he nodded. His breathing seemed slightly too fast for this type of injury.

She checked that the water wasn't too hot and then moved his arm under the steaming water. His hand fisted and he grabbed the counter with his other hand. She glanced at him. It must be incredibly painful.

Panic flashed through his eye as he stared at his arm. His body trembled and sweat sprung out on his brow. His arm ripped out of her grasp, and he stumbled back. With a heaving chest, he buried his face in shaking hands, as if trying to stop something.

Her eyes widened. Oh god. Man o War stings were said to feel like a searing hot knife blistering flesh. Clearly memories from the fire tried to surface, and he was struggling to not panic. To make matters worse, the sting was on the right side like his other burns. She tossed the gloves in the trash and gently pried his hand down. "Jason, it's just a sting and very warm water. It'll help the pain stop. Come hold my hand." She took a step back, and he followed with reluctance.

At the sink, she held his hand with her left one and wrapped his left arm around her waist. Then she turned on the water and held his elbow to guide his arm under the stream. His nailbeds turned white from his strong grip on her hand, and she had to counter with strong pressure to hold up to his strength even though he restrained himself. His other arm tightened around her, and his breathing rasped harsh in her ear. He lowered his forehead to rest on her shoulder. The edge of his mask bit into her back and must have caught just right because it clattered onto the counter.

The pure panic from him slammed into her like a typhoon. He tried to tear away, but she bowed her head and locked onto his hand and good arm. He started to struggle. The godawful fear in him broke her heart. "I won't look," she vowed, remaining calm to keep him from bolting. "It's safe," she whispered.

He stilled but remained tense, his chest heaving against her back. She turned his arm over under the water. His breath stirred the strands of hair near her ear, as if he'd raised his gaze to the mirror.

She froze in horror. Oh god, this was the first time he'd ever seen her standing with him. Never in a reflection or picture... His first time was like this, without a mask. Dear god, not like this.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered in a thick voice. Then the hatred leaked through. "You would scream if you saw the monster that stood beside you."

She whipped around to grab his shoulders and kept her eyes glued to his chest, swinging him around so his back faced the mirror. "Stop it. You are no such thing. You're in pain, hungry, and exhausted from the past few days. Did you take acetaminophen?"

"Yes," he said without emotion. Then he pulled away, grabbed his mask, and walked out.

She shut off the water and stared in the mirror. This morning she'd uncharacteristically curled her hair and left it cascading down her back. He hadn't said anything earlier, but his eyes had lit up, clearly finding the look attractive. She'd also put on a little bit darker eyeshadow to make her eyes stand out because he'd commented months ago that he found her large eyes attractive. The timing for trying to look prettier couldn't have been worse. She cursed her reflection and walked out.

He sat on the patio wearing the mask again, his sandwich half cut up on a plate. Her sandwich sat on a plate beside his. He stood and pulled out her chair.

"Do you prefer to eat alone?" She glanced at him and didn't move. He didn't need to feel stressed like he had to eat meals with her.

The man tensed but handed over her plate with grace. "You're not obligated to dine with me."

She took the plate and set it back down. Then she met his eye. "That was not the question, Jason. And that's not what I was implying." Instinct said he'd push her away.

Instead, he set his hands on the back of the chair, waiting to scoot her to the table.

She sat with a slight smile. "Thank you."

Without a word, he set a hand on her shoulder and then resumed his seat to her right. He turned away a bit and removed the mask. Then he slipped it under his thigh once again.

How curious that he wanted to keep the mask out of view. She nibbled her lip. If she asked a little at a time, like how he kept the mask on, maybe he wouldn't mind her looking at it in a few days.

"Out with it." He cut up the rest of his sandwich and had a pile of napkins ready.

"Do you want ice for your arm?"

"No. And no, I don't want to discuss it."

She nodded, respecting his privacy and perhaps embarassment. "Have you tried keeping gauze on while you eat? To serve as a lip?" She kept her gaze on her plate and started eating.

"Yes." That was it.

Apparently he didn't want to discuss that either. "Oh."

"Not everything has a magic fix." A slight tension carried through his voice.

"I know. I just want to help." She gave a sideways glance. "I didn't mean anything by it."

He held a napkin to his mouth. "That wasn't what's on your mind. You said you'd be honest with me."

So he'd seen through it. Sometimes he read her mind surprisingly well. "Alright, I was wondering why you hide your mask."

"I already explained my face and skull were crushed, and the mask is contoured for a tight fit," he replied, terse and impatient.

His response both hurt and surprised. He'd said she shouldn't be afraid to ask him anything, yet he'd almost bit off her head. She ate in silence, her heart beating faster from the tension. She stilled when he took her hand.

"My apologies, Emma. Please remember that it's been years since I've eaten in the the same room as someone. It's second nature to you, and you're very kind about keeping your eyes diverted. But I'm still very tense doing it. I didn't mean to snap at you. I ask that perhaps we save sensitive conversations for after meals when I'm not wound so tight."

She nodded, not sure what to even say. If he felt this sensitive about her seeing his mask, he very well may be dead serious that his wife would never see his face. The intimacy of marriage would be no more than what existed now, except _maybe_ he'd agree to being vulnerable enough to have sex.

"Emma, I meant it that you can talk to me."

"I know," she replied quietly but didn't prolong eating like usual to keep pace with him. She started to stand even though he was only half done, needing some physical distance to digest the sudden emotional crater between them.

He set a hand on her waist. "Emma," he pleaded. "I didn't mean to be harsh."

She sat with a heavy heart but didn't turn to face him without his mask. "It's just hard sometimes knowing which lines are forbidden or when. If boundaries are so absolute, this is basically the most intimate things will get. Ever. I know you said that's how it would be. I guess I just didn't quite believe it."

He rustled for a moment, putting on the mask. Then he turned to her and took her hands. "Look at me, Emma." She did, hating that mask and wanting nothing more than to throw the goddamn thing in the ocean.

His eye held so much compassion. "I don't deny you to be mean or because of lack of trust. I honestly believe any woman, much less you with your history, would naturally fear my touch if she saw my face. I know you're capable of loving me despite my looks, Emma. I don't doubt that anymore. What I fear is you having nightmares about me." He searched her eyes. "Your history would ingrain even imaginary fear in you so deep that I don't know we would get through it."

"How can you think I'd see you as such a monster?" she whispered, so heartbroken.

"Look me in the eye and tell me your mind didn't start running wild when you found out even my bone structure is deformed and I have no eye and ear."

She frowned severely, refusing to admit he was right.

"It's instinct in every species to fear something so terribly deformed it doesn't resemble any creature."

Anger bubbled up. "Stop it," she hissed and her eyes bore into him. "You aren't some creature born from Hell."

He cupped her face in his hands. "Whether you mean to or not, you would no longer find pleasure in my kisses. You would come to endure my touch but only sparingly. You'd have nightmares that, in time, would be hard to separate from reality. I've had those nightmares about myself, Emma. You had a nightmare about my face burning off." He shook his head. "Sweetheart, that is only the beginning."

She swallowed hard. "Not knowing frightens me. You say all of these people have seen you and aren't terrified, yet you make it sound like you could be in a horror movie." She cupped his hand on her cheek. "I have the nightmares now. I had nightmares after I left a month ago. You leave my imagination to fill in gaping holes. Don't you understand? I have nightmares about your face being worse than it probably is, but I still don't fear you. This barrier between us will only grow and drive us apart."

Such grief clouded his face. "Emma, I understand why to you this seems damaging, and I hear your concerns. I do. I need you to go against your instincts and trust me. If you could see it all from where I stand, you would know the best thing for us is this road. There is destruction in the path you see."

Taking a deep breath, she held his hands and looked deep into eye. "Tell me this, aside from all other factors. If we were wed for many years and had grown children together, would I know your face?"

He looked so heartbroken for her that it physically hurt. "If I could control everything, I would be put in the ground without you ever having to see my face."

She swallowed hard. Such a secret in a marriage. Such a wall to never know what her husband's face looked like. But it meant the world to him to keep the secret. So she nodded and quietly turned to gather her dishes. It hurt knowing there'd always be this measured tension of not turning to glance at him during meals, or not waking up and accidentally seeing his face. After a few weeks of marriage, he'd probably move into a separate bedroom just to be safe. He slipped something into her lap. His mask.

Lifting her gaze to the ocean, she gave it back to him. "Jason, don't." He didn't want her to know but was giving in, even if a little.

"Emma, it is all I can offer. Being with me will come with hardships that would be hard to handle. I understand you're the type of person who wants a man and wife to share everything and be loved for the good and bad. This is the closest I can give you. It means a lot to you, so I want to do this." His hand rested across the back of her chair, and he set the mask in her lap again. Then he slid his chair closer and turned over the mask.

She let her gaze travel down. The skin-toned pinkish mask that covered his face and around the back of his head was a bit bigger than expected. "This is the front." He pointed to the inside. She reached to touch the hills and valleys but remembered herself at the last minute. If he didn't want her touching his face, he wouldn't want her learning the contours of the mask and getting a visual. "It's alright." He pointed to some shiny lines. "These are just adhesive strips."

Her fingers trailed down the bumpy forehead to the very slight dip of a brow bone. It curved in a bit where an eye should have been. "That was before the surgery. It's quite concave now," he said in a solemn voice. She stroked a couple times, trying to find the cheekbone and regain bearings. "It was crushed by the beam," he filled in, seeming to sense her confusion. "My sinus was reconstructed but the cheekbone would be a different surgery." She nodded and continued exploring his jawline, which seemed sharp from no muscle or fat padding. The contours of the skull, however, were very bumpy like it molded to scars. He caught her hand before she got very far. "Obviously my skull had to be completely rebuilt to accomodate my brain. The rest of the mask contours to the scarring." He slipped it out of her lap and worked on putting it back on.

She wanted to study the mask and learn his face if this was the only time and way she'd see it. But she kept quiet. That would push him so far he'd shut down.

"Emma, I know the temptation to look at night or during meals will only grow these coming days." He took her hands and faced her, his eye full of worry. "I need to trust you that you will adhere to your word and not look."

"I know how much it means to you. Of course I won't." She frowned.

His hands shook. "You must believe me that it'd frighten you if you weren't ready. Your mother's scream was from fear, not being startled in the night like she claimed." Even his voice quivered.

Her heart beat faster. He seemed so scared. "Jason? What's wrong?"

Closing his eye, he swallowed hard. "Emma, the beam that hit me had chemical treatment. I didn't get only heat burns but burns from the chemicals being on fire, which scar in the worst way possible. It hit when I had my head turned to the side, so it reached my neck." He drew a shakey breath. "This is what the scars on my face look like too. My shoulder is simply burned from the heat proximity." He reached up with a shaking hand toward the neck of the mask.

Her heart pounded. He was going to reveal a portion of his neck burn. She caught his hand to stop him. "Jason, no. You don't have to show me anything. If you're this scared, that means it's too soon."

He shook his head. "You won't understand otherwise, Emma." His voice trembled. The determination in his eye overpowered the fear. Barely.

So she released his hand, with her heart in her throat. He didn't describe what he was about to reveal-he was setting her up and yet preparing her for a fraction of the shock she'd feel seeing his face by accident. Then he lifted up a small section of the flexible mask on his neck.


	16. Chapter 16

She stared at the ceiling in the dark that night. Her stomach twisted in knots and she rolled over. He shouldn't be sleeping in the next hotel room, like he'd insisted after giving her a glimpse of his burn. She rubbed her eyes. The image of it wouldn't go away.

The three-inch area he'd exposed had been far more pitted and warped than anything she'd been ready for. It had a 3D effect resembling large veins running under the skin every which way. The shiny surface was tinted an angry pinkish-red hue. The plasticy appearance had a tightness about it, as if forever frozen. The outside edges stretched to melt into thinner skin wrinkled from being taught, and then faded into healthy tissue.

Even hours later, warm tears ran down her cheeks thinking about it. The pain he must've endured. The terrible disfigurement to his beautiful face. It'd been hard not to react at all, but she'd done it. What haunted the worst now was the shame in his eye when he'd gotten up and walked out. She hadn't been able to find him and had finally texted after an hour of searching.

 _Where are you? Talk to me, don't shut me out. It doesn't change anything between us. Did I react and not realize it? Even if I did, you have to give me some leeway, Jason. I didn't know what to expect, and I think you wanted that for a true reaction. Talk to me._

 _No, you didn't react, for which I'm grateful. I don't know that I could have handled horror in your eyes. I'll be in the adjoining room after three o'clock. The nightmares will come tonight, and us being in the same room isn't a wise idea. You need time to process this, and I need time to not panic. Bill whatever you need to the room. I'll be near if you need help. Make sure you check your weight tonight, and let me know if you need the med adjusted._

That had been it. No 'I love you' or signature. So she'd called but he didn't answer. Instead, a text returned.

 _I need time to swallow the humiliation._

She'd called and waited for voicemail, not even holding back the tears. "Jason, don't do this. There's no need for humilation or shame or whatever you're thinking. I love you..." Her voice cracked. "It means so much that you showed me. If you're afraid I don't still desire you or want to kiss you, that's wrong. Please at least call me if you won't tell me where you are. I love you, Jay. Don't ever doubt that."

No response had come.

Getting up, she toed into the slippers and then padded over to the door connecting the rooms. Opening her door, she knocked on his. There was no handle to even open his door, if he had left it unlocked. Footsteps sounded. For a moment, panic rose up. Hopefully it really was Jason.

The door opened. He wore only cotton pajama bottoms and the mask. Based on the clear look in his eye, he hadn't gone to sleep yet either. "Is everything alright?" He shrugged on his blue robe.

Tears welled and her heart stumbled seeing him. It was as if he'd been gone for years. Without a word, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. If he wouldn't believe words that burns didn't matter, he'd believe actions.

He caught her weight, and his arms wrapped around her. But he didn't return the kiss, almost as if too stunned.

She backed him up to his untidy bed, her tongue grazing over his lip and then nibbling down his jaw. With a flick of her tongue over his earlobe, she gave a soft tug with her teeth. THen she pushed him down on the bed, the room too dark to see his expression but bright enough with the moonlight to see his silhouette.

"Emma-" he protested.

Crawling on top of him, her hair fell all around like a curtain. "No talking and no sex." Untying his robe, she laid her hands on his warm bare muscles. Oh god, here laid the most perfect male specimen, and he was all hers to touch. Her eyes rolled back, the fire of desire igniting. She grabbed his hands to cup her breasts and held him there, applying pressure to make his hands squeeze. A sigh of pleasure whisped past her lips. The slight hardness of him between her thighs tenfolded in a hardbeat, pressing against her delicate flesh through their thin clothes in a wonderfully sinful way. Her head dropped back with a gasp of pleasure. When he massaged and squeezed her breasts himself, she gasped and leaned into him. The glorious rippling of his chest and arm muscles under her hands made her rock against his hips. She needed his robe off, needed to feel him without the barrier.

He sat up and helped shrug out of it as fast as possible. Then he captured her breast in his mouth, his warm wetness dissolving the nightgown barrier. His tongue stroked, hardening the tip of her breast. She cradled his head in her arms, burying her hands in his hair. His hands grasped her hips and rocked her against his arousal. When his teeth lightly bit her rosy peak, her soft cry of pleasure broke the silence. She arched, almost pulling his hair as her body contracted for an instant in reaction.

It seemed to add fuel to the fire because he stood and laid her down. She welcomed his weight with open arms. He crawled on top on his hands and knees and held her wrists down on the bed. He kissed her neck, his lips trailing fire down to her breasts, where he suckled and teased to draw out the pleasure. She panted hard, her fingers just able to brush his wrists. He shifted his grip to interlace their fingers, giving an intimacy to speak without words. She writhed in pleasure, barely able to stand the magic he wove. Her hands clasped his tighter and tighter. Just when the pleasure became too much, he shifted, bringing the most unexpected raw desire.

His kisses trailed down her belly but stopped just above where she ached for his touch. He released her hand and soft fingertips grazed her thigh, dragging up her nightgown-higher and higher, past her panties and up to her naval. She trembled with desire. He wouldn't slip off her panties, or kiss through the material...would he? Her heart slammed with anticipation. The pads of his fingers skimmed over her lower belly, sending shivers skittering across her skin. Then his hand traveled back up to roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand interlaced with hers again. And then his lips pressed down on her lower belly and slowly massaged.

He was kissing her womb where one day a baby would grow. It shouldn't have been arousing, but the gentle tenderness of his kisses and raw love in his heart wove pleasure she'd never known. The firm pressure of his lips and chin creating a deep massage, and his hand stroking and teasing her breasts sent bolts of electricity down to where the fire began to rage. Then his chest brushed between her legs. The jolt of electricity made her hips buck. The world burst into brilliant colors, and something contracted deep inside to send a wave of warmth radiating out to her fingers and toes. His hands clasped hers, countering her pressure, while his thumbs stroked her hands with promises of protection and love. She panted hard and melted into the mattress.

"You like being dominated." His husky voice cut through the darkness.

She sighed in agreement as sleep tried to come.

The bed shifted as he climbed on top of her. In an instant, his hand rubbed between her legs. She grabbed handfuls of the sheets as he forced another orgasm, this one far more powerful than the last. He caught her cry of pleasure in his mouth and wrapped his arms around her as he gave powerful thrusts, keeping his manhood against her thigh. He released a choked cry and held her tight at the same moment she reached the height of pleasure.

Then he rolled off and she snuggled up against him, asleep a moment later.

* * *

The next morning, she stretched and opened her eyes. She was back in her own hotel room. He didn't lay beside her or in a cot at the foot of the bed. Sitting up, she looked at the connecting doorway. Her door remained open; his did not.

Flinging back the sheets, she got dressed and then marched to his door. He certainly hadn't had trouble with physical intimacy last night, so he had no reason to hide today. She knocked on his connecting door. A bit loud. Too bad for the neighbors that the clock read half past seven.

He opened the door, looking like he hadn't slept much. He wore slacks, a white dress shirt, shoes, and the mask. His hair looked like he'd run his fingers through it several times and a shadow of exhaustion underlined his eye. She blinked. "Jason, did you sleep at all?"

He didn't respond but stood there holding the doorknob, with tension outlining his face. His eye searched hers. "You don't remember last night, do you?"

She frowned. "Yes. We perhaps got a little carried away, but-" When she reached a hand out to him, he shot back a step. And then it all came crashing back. The waking up after cuddling in bed with him. The nightmare of a faceless creature climbing on top of her...a burned off face. The scream-her scream. She closed her eyes. Oh god. She cupped her hands to her mouth and looked at him, tears blurring everything. He'd woken her up from the nightmare and she'd screamed. Being so upset from the dream and then guilt, she'd claimed a nightmare about Gaston and then gone to her own bed. In hindsight, it made no sense because she'd always sought him out for comfort from a nightmare about Gaston. Apparently he'd seen through it too. Her lip quivered. The pain in him practically suffocated her. "Jason, please, I was tired and confused..."

He dropped his gaze. "Emma, it's not your fault. I even told you the nightmares would come. There'd be something wrong if you didn't fear me in some way now." He almost choked on the words. "This is why we need separate rooms." With a shakey breath, he started to close the door.

She caught it and slipped into his room. He tensed and held her eyes, his gaze alert like prey facing the predator and ready to run. She swallowed hard. "That is not fair. You tried to set me up so this would happen." Pointing at his chest, the anger boiled. "You can't do this and then runaway! You didn't even give us a chance to talk about it-"

"So ask, and then see the nightmares get worse tonight," he snarled, the challenge in his eye unmistakable.

If he wanted to be stubborn, so be it. But they were going to talk about this one way or another. "Does your face hurt?"

His whole body coiled with tension, as if expecting something awful to happen. "I've lost most of the feeling on that side. The scarring was so thick I had a couple surgeries to regain the ability to swallow normally and turn my head within normal range." His voice was terse and guarded.

"So you didn't have many surgeries for skin grafts, if your face looks like that too?" Her brow furrowed. What could twenty four surgeries have been for if not skin?

He held her gaze, almost as if in challenge. "Several surgeries were done in the first few hours to remove bone fragments pressing on my brain. Once I stabilized, I'm told they took me back in the next day to remove my eye and the shattered bones in my face and more from my skull. Medically each type of surgery is counted separately even though several were done at once. I had about half a dozen surgeries that were considered life-saving by the time I woke up. Most of the others were to rebuild my bones and try to save my hearing. I had a couple plastic surgeries to rebuild my ear but I terminated further surgeries." Then he turned, as if to leave.

She stepped in front of him. Laying her hands on his chest, she looked up at him. He looked startled by her touch. "What was the plan, Jason? To show me and then hide the rest of this trip? You want the truth?" His eye narrowed. "I've researched facial burns to try to figure out not just what might have happened to your skin, but to figure out what obstacles you have that you won't tell me and how to get around them. Your quality of life is impacted to a degree, but mostly your self-confidence. Using a straw to drink is not a novel idea, Jason. It is one that was overlooked because you accept limitations at face value." She reached up to touch the good side of his face.

He jerked back, his eye glittering with anger. "Are you finished?" he growled.

Raising her chin, she met his stubborn glare. "You're the one taking things a step farther each time, Jason. You told me about your eye surgery, showed me your shoulder burn, explained your physical changes from the fire, showed me your neck, take things a step farther with physical intimacy...And then you shove me away and panic. You panic because you want to show me your face." She looked him in the eye, her gaze not waivering. "You aren't scared that I'll run-you're scared that I won't."

In a split instant, he grabbed her shoulders. A dark storm brewed in his eye. "You think you can withstand the monster, so be it," he snarled. He pressed her back into the room, slamming the door shut behind him and jerking closed the room-darkening curtain.

Everything became a silhouette with a hint of color. He advanced, ripping off his shirt and tossing it aside. Her heart beat faster. Then he kicked off his shoes and dropped his pants. A thrill of excitement ran down to her toes, and a pang of grief that he hurt so deeply.

He grabbed her tank at the waist and jerked it off. She took a step back toward the bed, surprised and excited by his aggression. He stepped forward to press his hard chest against her body and suckled her neck as his arms slipped around to unzip her skirt at the back. It dropped around her ankles, and he pushed her onto the bed and laid down on her in one swift motion.

He was going to make love to her. Not quite his typical wining and dining, but beautiful all the same because it would be his tender lovemaking. "You don't scare me, Jay. You want me to hate you, but I don't." Her hands skimmed up his chest toward his neck to wrap around and pull him closer.

But he leaned up on his knees and caught her wrists. "No." It was a command. He pinned her wrists up near her head.

She blinked and looked up at his silhouette, the good side of his face toward the patio light was illuminated a bit. "You're no monster." She frowned.

His eye held no tenderness but anger. "If I take the mask off right now, you'll be so terrified you'll wish it was him on you instead," he snarled.

How dare he. Her eyes narrowed. He wanted her to run, but he'd never hurt her. Her heart stoned over from his harsh words. How could he take her worst nightmares and twist them for his control? The betrayal burned, and he deserved to know it. "Then first beat me until I'm too dizzy to stand. Ram into me so I tear and scream with each thrust while you laugh."

Even in the dim light he paled at the sickening yet vague details of the rape.

Her hands fisted where he still held her wrists. The rage surfaced, and for the first time, the temptation to slap him called her name. She shook with anger. "I already laid with the Devil. You want to compete?" she hissed.

He released her wrists instantly and sat back. "Jesus, Emma. I didn't mean I'd rape you-," he apologized, looking sick to his stomach.

She shot up and snatched her shirt and skirt off the bed, fighting so hard to contain the fury and tears.

He caught her elbow. "Emma, I'm so sorry. I-"

Whipping around, she slapped the good side of his face. He stared with a wide eye, as if trying to register it. Her eyes burned into him and her body trembled with so much anger that her stomach threatened to get sick. "If you ever use sex again to try to control or frighten me, I will never come back," she hissed, her voice quivering with rage. "And you're right. Threatening me like that does make you almost as much of a monster as him." Tears fell from her lashes. "I hope your pride was worth this."

"Emma, please," he begged, remorse and grief evident in his voice. "I was stupid and didn't think what I was implying. I'd never do that to you-"

She slammed her door to his room. And for the first time, she turned a lock to keep him out.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews for the last couple chapters, YazminXD, Marianabelle, Singingsilent, and Callico11852! I tweaked this chapter a little based on your reviews. :)**

 **I can't tell you yet, Marianabelle. ;)**

* * *

The anger took all day to calm from a roaring fire to a flame. She'd kept to her room, ignoring his texts and knocks on the door. At dinner he'd sent a bouquet of yellow apology roses, which she'd set in front of his hallway door, still too hurt to accept anything from him.

The next morning, she got up at sunrise for a run. Last fall was the last time she'd jogged, so she probably wouldn't run too long. All the same, it would help clear her head. Her feet hit the long boardwalk that parallelled the beach. Only a few other people jogged or walked. It probably was not good to run with headphones if lunatics really might kidnap her, so she simply ran. The cool mist of the ocean breeze kept the heat of the rising sun at bay. The rhythmic pendulum of her swinging ponytail kept a calming beat. Sweet heaven, it felt good to escape.

Before getting very far, a set of footsteps followed. Picking up the pace, the hollow echo of the footsteps did too. The boards creaked, as if supporting substantial weight. The footsteps didn't pound but hit with quiet ease like someone not wanting to be heard. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Glancing over her shoulder, she cursed. It was Jason.

Ignoring him would only make the jog stressful. Trying to make a record for a civilian outrunning a SEAL likely wouldn't work. That only left engaging in combat, which sounded really good for unleashing some of the hurt right now. She stopped and spun around.

He slammed to a halt, wearing a blue t-shirt, shorts, and tennis shoes, and held up his hands. "You know you can't be alone right now while those men are on the loose. I'll just follow."

Setting a hand on her hip and the other on the wood rail, she drummed her fingers. "No. Get your ass over here and try to fix this, or leave."

He blinked, either surprised at the invitation to talk or at the command. Then he walked over and closed the twenty-foot distance between them. When she started running, he paced his steps to hers on her right side. She needed to get her apology out of the way first. "I shouldn't have slapped you. I'm not exactly sorry I did, but it wasn't right to hit you." She kept her eyes forward.

"I well deserved it. I'm so sorry, Emma. It didn't occur to me in the moment what it sounded like I was saying, and I really screwed up."

"Yeah, you did."

"I offer no excuses, but I hope you knew I wasn't going to hurt you." He glanced at her.

She pressed her lips together, the pain receding a little. "I wouldn't have challenged you if I'd thought you'd really do it." Then she added without looking at him, "But I meant what I said that there is no third chance."

He nodded, keeping his gaze forward. "I shouldn't have said something where you felt like you needed to challenge me. You're not obligated to give me a second chance, Emma." His voice rang so solemn.

"No. And part of me doesn't want to." She glanced at him. "Whether you realized what you were implying or not, you knew how terrified I am of him. You witnessed him play on the terror and try to rape me again." She slowed to a stop and he did too, and she searched his eye. "Why would you try to make me scared of you like that?"

Pain and grief flashed through his eye. He pressed his lips together and swallowed hard. "I don't know, Emma," he whispered with abundant shame.

Looking out to the ocean, the wind helped dry the threatening tears. "I thought we were going to make love. What were you trying to prove? That you're really a heartless monster?"

He leaned his hands on the wood railing facing the ocean and stared out. "I was scared and angry that you weren't repulsed after seeing the burn. I expected you to either call my bluff or cry foul at the thought of really letting me bed you. I had no intention of us actually making love yesterday, Emma. The anger just kept building when you reached up for me like you wanted to despite everything." He bowed his head and ran a hand through his hair. "For what little it's worth, I realize it was wrong and cruel in so many ways to bring him up when you were vulnerable like that. I didn't think before I spoke, and that was a grevious error on my part."

"One of the things that made me fall in love with you was your gentleness. It's like that's disappearing." She brushed away a tear.

"Emma." He reached to stroke her cheek. She stepped back. The gesture clearly stabbed a knife in his chest, and his hand fell to his side.

"I understand there are trauma and self-confidence issues that will always exist because of the burns. I will support you and help you..." Then she shook her head. "But I will not be your kicking post." Taking a shakey breath, she sniffled and couldn't hold back the pain and tears anymore. "You need more counseling or something, Jason. You theoretically beat me yesterday, and I need time for the bruises to heal."

His face crumpled, and he set a hand on his hip and the other over his mouth, almost like he struggled to remain composed. He looked out over the water, her pain seeming to crush him.

After what he did, her heart beat with a little more effort as it hardened a bit more from him. "I will finish this jog by myself. I don't need a man at every turn in my life in order to be alright." Then she turned and left him and her heart behind.

* * *

The next evening, someone knocked at the door. She practically crawled out of bed in her pajamas, her stomach so sore from reacting to the stomach medicine all day. She clutched the doorknob to stay upright and peeked out the peep hole. Jason. Cruel fate. Of course he'd show up now. She opened the door. Why on earth was he swaying?

"Emma, I... Are you alright?" He frowned in concern.

Oh lovely. The entire the hallway swam with him. "I just need..." Black spots popped up everywhere, and then her knees buckled.

He scooped her up before she collapsed. Without missing a beat, he swept into the room. "Are you reacting to the medicine?"

"Oh god, you're so warm," she sighed and curled into his heat, finally not shivering.

He laid her on the bed and felt her pulse. "What are your symptoms?" he demanded and felt her brow.

"Go away. I'm dying," she groaned and used the last of her strength to pull the covers over her head. No way would he learn that she'd spent the entire day in the bathroom.

"You're so dehydrated you literally are on the verge of dying." The bed shifted and his footsteps receeded. Unfortunately, he returned a moment later and the bed shifted again. "Emma, you need fluids." He eased the blanket down and got an I.V. line running. Then he gently palpated her belly.

She hissed in a breath and rolled onto her side in misery. "Just let me die."

"This will help calm your stomach. Why didn't you get me?" He injected something into the I.V. line.

Oh god, here came the stomach cramps again. "Go away. Please," she begged and buried her head under the blankets, curling up in the fetal position.

"Sweetheart, I've seen it all, and I've had illnesses myself. You need someone here-"

"Go. Oh god, go," she pleaded and started to sit up to go to the bathroom again.

He scooped her and the I.V. bag up and hurried into the bathroom. Hooking the bag on the shower curtain ring, he stepped out.

"Back in your room!" she called. She'd die before having him stand outside the door.

He grumbled but the hotel door shut a moment later.

A few minutes later, the medicine seemed to have kicked in. She staggered out and collapsed on the bed. She hooked the I.V. bag on the lap, so weak only an act of God kept a pulse in her.

He entered instantly, like he'd been standing on the other side of the connecting door, and hurried over. He sat on the bed beside her. "I was going to see if we could talk, but maybe we can find something on TV instead to distract you." He rubbed her stomach in a way that eased the cramping.

"You don't have to stay."

He looked down at her. "I would like to, if it's alright." Then he hesitated a moment. "I called the therapist from the hospital where I had the eye surgery." He slipped his hand into hers. "I told her about what happened, and she thinks cognitive-behavioral therapy will help. I'll tell you more when you're feeling better, but I wanted you to know that I heard what you said yesterday." He seemed so ashamed.

"I'm still mad at you," she said, fighting to stay awake. "But I love you."

He leaned down and kissed her brow. "I love you too. The med can make you sleepy. Rest, Emma. I'll be here if you need something." Then he whispered, "Thank you for believing in me."

When she woke up an hour later, he sat at the table working on his laptop. She pushed herself upright when Nature called from so much fluids. He shut the computer and got up. "Are you feeling better?" He walked over and helped her stand. She nodded, and he helped her to the bathroom without questions.

Once he tucked her under the blankets again, he sat on the edge of the bed. His eye held hers with solemn intensity. "You're lucky that no organ damage occurred." When she frowned, he said, "I drew blood from the I.V. port and ran a basic panel while you slept. You said you'd tell me if you started getting sick. This had to have been going on for hours, Emma."

Her gaze didn't waver. "I didn't exactly want your help after the other day. There is a physican on staff with the hotel. He was going to stop by this afternoon."

His brow furrowed for a moment, and then he stood. "I'll get him up to speed when he arrives then." He turned to go.

"This is what you wanted. For me to be uncomfortable around you." She swallowed hard. "You were angry when you held me down. It doesn't bother me when it's safe, when you're just being passionate yet gentle. But you did it for power, to control what I could do. Just like he did." She searched his guilt-ridden face. "I don't understand where this anger is coming from. It feels like you resent me. The man I knew before this week would never have dreamed of doing something like this."

He stared at the blankets, his voice falling to a hollow emptiness. "I feel like I'm losing control, Emma. This 'vacation' should be fun, but I feel like I'm climbing the walls and I didn't know why."

"'Didn't'? Now you do?" She frowned in confusion.

His eye rose to meet hers, and his pride shriveled and died. "When I talked to the therapist today, she said she..." He started fidgeting and got up and paced, so unlike the composed and calm man she'd come to know. "She thinks I have some kind of anxiety disorder stemming from the accident." He ran a hand through his hair. "I can't sleep or eat anymore. I can't do this."

When he sank into a chair at the table and leaned down to lock his hands behind his head, the stone around her heart cracked a little. "Jason, calm down and talk to me. What can't you do anymore?"

"This." He leaned on his elbows and looked at her with a broken heart. "What if I hurt you? You know burned adults have high depression rates and probably mentally snap like a frickin' twig. I'm so stressed trying to eat meals with you and make sure you don't see my face. But what if you do? What if you can't stand me touching you?" He held out a hand. "What if you can?" He held out his other hand. "What if it doesn't bother you at all? Then are we meant to get married? And what about children? You want babies." He touched his chest, looking so panic stricken. "I shouldn't be a father like this." Then he held out both hands. "What if we get carried away one night and get pregnant without being married? Then do I propose? Do I show you my face and chance you aren't going to be so horribly freaked out?" Surging to his feet, he paced. "And that's all assuming you don't hate my guts and want to shoot me right now. You should." He started ticking off his fingers. "I gave the impression I was going to rape you, which in itself is probably a felony." He tossed his phone on the bed as he paced. "You should call the cops. You really should. I'm antisocial, introverted...shit, it's the perfect psycho profile. What if those lunatics finds us and try to get you? What..." He rambled on.

His phone lit up from landing on a button. The night Chicago skyline picture that she'd taken from his helicopter on their first date was his screensaver. The tracker phone didn't have a keypad lock, and it turned on to show the wallpaper. It was a photo of her from a distance at his desk pouring over ledgers with three pencils sticking out of her messy bun. She was looking down at the books, completely absorbed. Her heart twisted. He'd kept the photos even after she'd left him.

"Tell them I'll confess over the phone and waive lawyer rights," he said quietly and sat in the chair at the table, leaning his elbows on his knees and folding his hands as he stared at the floor.

She cocked her head. He must think she was calling the police. She held up the phone. "When did you take this?"

He lifted his head, all hope gone from his eye. "After your father died. It was the first time you looked so at peace in so long, getting lost in the numbers. It wasn't long before I scared you and you ran." He rested his face in his hands. "God, Emma, why do you stay? I'm so impossibly screwed up."

"No, you're so impossibly stressed about everything. Your SEAL training taught you how to deal with stress so well that it took this much for you to snap."

Shaking his head, he got up and turned to stare out the window. "Don't make excuses for what I've done."

"I'm not making excuses, I'm offering explanations. What did the therapist say?"

"That I'm so fucked up you should leave."

She sighed. "What did she really say?" He had a good heart and wouldn't be standing here if the therapist had really thought he'd be a threat.

He shrugged and shook his head. "That I'm trying to force too much too fast, and it's starting to backfire. She said to have meals in the dark with you until I'm comfortable in daylight. To try dates at home so I'm not half worrying what you'll think of people staring. Then when we're more secure to try public dates. And that I need to have a separate bedroom to have a place that feels completely safe to remove the goddamn mask."

"Jason, I don't understand if this is all moving so fast for you, why you wanted my opinion about engagement and wedding rings?"

His shoulders sagged at getting caught apparently. "I wanted to get an idea of what you like because I wanted to have a ring made for our one-year anniversary. The jeweler needs about six months to make it, so he'd need a more solid pattern soon. If things moved slow with us, I'd have him place a jewel in the center of it the month beforehand. If things progressed, I'd have him put a diamond in to be an engagement ring." Her heart melted. Shaking his head, he heaved a sigh. "Your words made me realize how naive I was being." Bowing his head, he gave a bitter laugh. "I did a good job of ruining any chance for marriage." He straightened but didn't turn. "Forgive me, I shouldn't keep you from resting or burden you with this. It's practically impossible to get through the connecting door without you opening it, so you don't need to fear I'll disturb you." He turned and started to walk toward the hallway door on the opposite side of the room.

"You're quick to assume I won't forgive you." The guilt and pain seemed to be eating him alive.

He stopped and slowly turned with tears shimmering in his eye. "You shouldn't, Emma. What I did was abusive and unforgivable..." His voice cracked, and he pressed his lips together to find his voice again. His eye searched the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears. "The way you looked at me after I said that..." He sniffled and roughly swiped a hand over his eye. Tears sprang to her eyes over how broken up he felt. When he looked at her, his tears fell. "I would walk through a thousand fires if it would take away the pain I caused you." Then he left, the door softly clicking shut.


	18. Chapter 18

After another half hour, the bag of fluids started to run out. Jason's phone that he'd left behind buzzed with a timer. She shut off the timer and then slowed the I.V. drip so it wouldn't run out for a bit yet and flow in trapped air. Trapped. She froze. Oh dear god. The poor man had post-traumatic stress disorder.

In all the reading about burn victims, it should have been so apparent that's what was happening. He was thrown back into society so suddenly this past week and had such high stress being in the same room with her twenty-four seven that the stress had turned into aggression when he'd finally snapped the other day. It still didn't excuse what he'd done, but it explained so much. Instead of getting violent like so many victims, he'd tried to turn it onto himself. His words suddenly made sense that he had truly meant that he thought himself worse than Gaston. He'd been so blind with rage that any other interpretation of his words hadn't occured to him. Her heart broke. He was taking what he'd done so hard-he had been so blind with self-hatred that he hadn't meant to hurt her.

Someone knocked on the hallway door. "Emma, it's me," Jason called and unlocked it. He stepped in. "It sounded like my phone timer for the I.V." He set down the key on the TV stand. "I forgot I still had my copy. I'll leave it here." Then he walked over with some supplies in hand for removing the I.V. He pocketed his phone off the bed and opened up the I.V. line to drain the rest of the fluid. Then he shut it down and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on gloves. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much. Thank you." He didn't make eye contact and seemed so sad. She caught his hand before he put on the second glove. "Jason, you haven't been like yourself. I think there's more to this than you're telling me. I can't help but think Charlotte has something to do with all of this." He tensed considerably. Right. Now he wouldn't open up with things so strained. "Tell me what would help. I see you drowning and don't know what to do. Does the therapist think going home would help?"

He raised his gaze and nodded. "It's so pathetic," he said in quiet tones. "The stress of facing the public every day shouldn't make someone go crazy."

She cupped the good side of his face and held his eye. "You aren't crazy. PTSD is hard to cope with, especially when you don't tell me that's what is going on."

He closed his eye, the humiliation vibrating off of him. "She mentioned today that PTSD is probably the problem." Then he looked at her. "You need to move on. I'm so messed up, Emma."

Shaking her head, she stroked his cheek. "Stop, Jason. You're looking at this all wrong. There's nothing wrong with you-"

He snorted. "Yes, getting abusive with you is normal."

"I don't know that it crossed into abuse. But, given the circumstances, I think it showed amazing restraint. You've never been that angry before, have you?"

He couldn't seem to bring himself to look at her. "The only time I felt more rage than that was when I was pulling him off of you." His eye searched hers. "I had no intention of physically harming you, but I probably grabbed your wrists hard-"

"No. Your grip didn't even tighten." Seeing him so ashamed and broken like this tore at her.

His blue eye finally rose to make contact. "I'm sorry, Emma. I lost control and hurt you. There's no excuse for what happened."

She held his hand. "We'll get through this, Jason."

* * *

She paced in his room the next morning, and he sat on the edge of the bed after their two-hour phone conversation with the therapist.

"Don't look so glum. This is good that she thinks most of this will resolve with just some retraining of how you react to people's reactions to your face, and returning home." She glanced at him.

"Then why are you pacing?" he asked dryly.

She waved a hand. "I think better when I pace." Then she turned to him and smiled for the first time in days. He'd admitted over the phone that her spontaneous, nonsexual affection helped ease the stress. The man looked like he desperately needed a hug. She walked over and plopped in his lap, linking her arms around his neck. The tension in his muscles eased a bit. "Tell me why this isn't smashing news, Dr. Port."

That won a smile from him. He hadn't looked this calm in several days. "You aren't upset that she suggested we have some of the day hours apart?"

She shook her head. "I like being with you, but I see why you need 'man cave' time," she teased. Then she linked her hands behind his neck and leaned back in all seriousness. He supported her back with his hands, his muscles holding her up so easily. "I didn't think about it that even at home you disappear for a few hours during the day, because I was too wrapped up in work to notice. You need that time to decompress. Plus, I like her idea that we have beach night dates when it's secluded and dark so you don't have the stress of the public eye and all." Her face grew warm. "I promise to not seduce you, and I'll be in charge of putting the brakes on."

"Emma-"

"No, you were responsible the last few times. It's my turn to stop us before we have sex." She smiled. He shifted her weight on his lap. Something in his look for a split second said he wasn't comfortable with her touching near that side of his neck. So she dropped her arms to rest on his shoulders instead. The moment her hands moved, his shoulders visibly relaxed. She leaned her forehead against the good side of his forehead. "Remind me, Jay. Sometimes I forget."

He looked a bit embarrassed but nodded and sat back to look at her. "It seemed like I needed less and less time alone when we were at home. I think she's right that it will eventually dwindle away." He swept a lock of hair from her cheek. His blue eye searched her face. "I'll work on vocalizing when I need space so things don't get out of control again."

She rested her head on his shoulder as he held her tight. "It helps so much that you cared enough to get help right away so things didn't get worse."

He seemed to hesitate. "Are you scared of me, Emma?"

So much fear lay in those words. "No, Jay. Even when it happened, I wasn't scared. Am I pushing you to take things fast? Sometimes I forget how new everything is for you. I don't want to make things harder."

He rubbed her back. "I know, Emma. Most of the time it feels like you're encouraging, which I need. If left to my own devices, I'd always just sit in my comfort zone and stay locked up in my office. This week, though, it feels like I'm pushing too hard trying to keep up when I need to learn to say pause."

She sat up and looked at him with concern. "How do I push?"

"It's not you doing anything wrong, and it's not exactly pushing. I know seeing my face is a big issue that's important to you and that you'd still love me. Sometimes just let me vocalize the anxiety without trying to fix it. With eating, I need to do it alone for awhile yet. I know you're trying to help show me it's alright, but it's becoming stressful. It's an ego thing for a man, Emma. We want to be big strong protectors, not weaklings that need protecting."

"But-"

He set a finger to her lips. "That's how a man sees it, even though it's not how a woman does. I need you to stop trying to come up with solutions for my lip. I know you want to help. I love that you thought of the straw, but just let this be for awhile. Even if you figure out a solution, I just need to feel like you're alright with me like this. I know you are, but I need to feel like it too."

Her face crumpled as fast as her heart. "I didn't know I was making you feel like this. I'm sorry-"

"No, no, no, no." He cupped her face to hold her eyes, his thumbs wiping away the tears. "I'm not blaming you, and it's not like this has been festering. I think the stress of everything this week has made me notice these things. Don't take it personally. We're just talking and being open, alright? We need times of blunt communication, and that's all this is." His eye searched hers. "I don't want you to feel bad or guilty from it, and I certainly don't want you to pull away."

She nodded.

"You don't look like you believe me." His brow wrinkled in concern.

She gave a watery smile. He was too perceptive. "Just tell me you forgive me."

He frowned with worry clouding his eye. "There's nothing to forgive."

"Just say it."

"I forgive you." He wiped away her last tear.

She flung her arms around his neck, letting the guilt go. "I forgive you too," she whispered with a tight embrace.

His arms tightened, as if he couldn't hold her close enough. "Thank you, Emma. I'll never do that again," he whispered.

She held on, basking in his love that so freely flowed out. It became so clear now that he'd been holding back the past few days. It had been so gradual, almost imperceivable until now.

* * *

The next afternoon, she sketched on a page to pass the time. Jason's voice traveled through the wall in a deep hum the past couple hours, probably discussing business. Leaving him alone the last twenty four hours proved to be a challenge. Especially challenging when he didn't want her out alone and the TV could only provide so much distraction. But he'd asked for time alone to unwind and talk to the counselor again. To her dismay, he'd even agreed to join an online burn victim support group that met last night. When he'd checked in on her in the evening, he'd simply said it had gone well but didn't seem inclined to discuss it yet.

Someone knocked on the hallway door, so she got up to answer. Jason.

She opened it with a smile. He wore a white dress shirt and black slacks. Her smile died. "It's too hot out for you to be dressed like that. It's ninety degrees outside."

His eye lit up with a slight smile, and he folded his hands behind his back, so cool and composed. "It's poor manners to ask a lady on a date without respectful attire."

Oh my. Butterflies took off in her stomach. This was the suave heartthrob who had disappeared this past week. She bit her lip to keep from grinning like a fool. But a grin still broke through.

He offered a soft smile, seeming pleased at her pleasure. "After dinner, would you care to accompany me on a walk along the beach at sunset?"

"I'd love to." Her cheeks ached from smiling so big. She folded her hands behind her back to keep from leaping into his arms. He seemed so relaxed, so confident again. "I take it that holing up and the therapy are helping?"

He gave a slight nod. "A great deal. I'll be finished with some work in a bit, if you'd like the laptop to occupy yourself."

She flushed. "No, I'm alright, thank you."

Again, he nodded. "Do you need any assistance with ordering dinner and billing it to the room?"

She blinked and then frowned. "Don't I call the front desk and ask for the kitchen?"

He appeared to suppress a smile. "Call the front desk and say you'd like to order room service. Give your room number and order." She must've looked blank because he asked, "Have you ever ordered room service?"

She shook her head. "Do they tell you what they're serving tonight?"

He smiled and gestured toward her room. "May I?" She stepped back for him to come in. He walked over to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and handed over a menu. "Pick what you'd like."

Her eyebrows shot up. "These prices should pay for a meal for two! There's a grocery store down the block-"

"Pick your meal." He smiled. "They don't allow food to be stored in the rooms, so it's either go out or order in."

Setting the menu back in the drawer, she frowned. "The FBI isn't paying for meals, are they? There's no reason why we can't order from the restaurants on the boardwalk where it's cheaper. I'll pick it up and be back in five minutes." When he gave a stern look, she sighed and picked up the menu. "Fine. But you can't keep me housebound forever."

"I can when insane villians are on the loose. Pick your meal, Emma."

She cocked an eybrow. "I don't need you to order for me."

That seemed to amuse him, based on the glint in his eye. "Alright, Ms. Hoplin, I'll leave you to it. You can place your order now and specify a time for delivery. Allow at least thirty minutes for the meal to come." Then he departed, having a harder time concealing a smile.

She picked up the phone and placed an order for chicken.

"We have two accounts listed for the room. Which would you like it billed under?"

Jason hadn't mentioned this. "Is there one with Jason Smith?"

"No, ma'm. I have one listed for Frank Grady and one for Frank Morgan."

She frowned. "I'll have to check and call you back. Thank you." With a sigh, she knocked on his connecting door.

He opened it with a grin.

Her mouth dropped. "You knew!" She poked his chest.

A deep laugh burst out of him. "My apologies. I couldn't resist when you looked so stubborn. My account is under Frank Grady."

"I thought it was Jason Smith." She frowned.

He shook his head, the smile still not leaving him. "That was for a different hotel. Each stop has a different alias."

Rolling her eyes, she set her hands on her hips. "It would help to know that. So my name is...?"

"Emma Grady. The story is we had a honeymoon spat, so you kicked me out." He set a hand on his chest. "Being the doting husband, I requested an adjoining room to keep an eye on your safety."

Her eyebrows shot up. " _I_ kicked you out?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Would it sound better if I said I wanted to move out? The adjoining room wouldn't make sense then either."

That was a good point. "Alright," she drawled. "You get away with that this time."

He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and gave a sultry smile. "Besides, it gives good reason to win back my lady fair."

Her heart beat faster, and a fresh flush crept up her cheeks. Goodness, it had been so long since he'd made her blush so much. "You, sir, are a rake. It's good you don't like going out in public."

"Is it?"

The slight arrogance in his growing smile made heat swirl low in her belly. "Yes, because you'd have women falling all over you."

"Ahh," he said, straightening to his full height and taking a step closer. "There's only one woman's heart I'm interested in," he said, his deep baritone so smooth and hypnotizing. His forefinger hooked under her chin, tilting her head back.

She practically melted in his hand. Her eyes closed, ready for his lips just a breath away.

"You've gone too long without a sound kissing." His deep baritone wove shivers up her spine. His warm, sweet breath danced across her lips. "I'll have to rectify that tonight." Then his finger released her chin.

Her eyes fluttered open. Heat pooled between her thighs under his look that promised dark pleasure.

"Remember, Emma," he said, his husky voice as smooth as honey. "It's your job to put on the brakes tonight."


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews for the last couple chapters, Callico11852 and YazminXD! I wait for reviews to get feedback for writing the next chapters, but reviews seem to be dying off with summer here. Or maybe I need cliffhangers at the end of chapters like the Tink trilogy. Mwahahaha! Yes, I just might. :)**

* * *

It was the second official date. With how horribly the first one had ended with her dad's death, this one had to be better. The universe owed that much. She curled her hair and twisted it in a French knot to leave the ends dangling against her neck. She slipped into a red tank and a red rose pattern, knee-length, full skirt. The sweet man had apparently slipped the beautiful garment into the shopping bag at the store the other day.

A glance out the window revealed the sun beginning to set. Applying red lipstick, she dabbed most of it off with a tissue so it only left a stain of color. There. It wouldn't get on him if he did kiss tonight. Then she applied a dusting of lavender eyeshadow to bring out the flecks of green in her eyes. Stepping back to look in the mirror, she sighed in disgust. The lavender clashed with the red. She wiped it off and started over with a light application of smokey black.

When he knocked, she only had one eye done. "Just a minute!" Shoot, she had to hurry. Her heart beat faster with the rush. Ugh, the mascara would have to be abandoned tonight. Trotting over to the door in sandals and so excited she could burst, she checked the peephole and then opened the door. A flush and smile immediately swept over her.

He stood there in his signature white dress shirt and black slacks. And a single red rose in hand, his other hand behind his back in such a proper manner. Her heart stumbled and butterflies took off in her stomach. "You remembered," she beamed. He'd apparently taken to heart what she'd said about a simple date two months ago.

"Yes. It is a tourist trap here, but I managed to not break the twenty dollar rule," he said with a smile and offered the rose.

She laughed, and the butterflies went wild. "Thank you." This was the first red rose he'd ever given. Goodness, he had her acting like a giddy teenager.

Then he brought his hand out from behind his back and turned over a seashell almost bowl shaped and as big as his palm. "I came across this on the beach last night. Shall we collect small seashells to put inside?"

That was it. He'd stolen her heart for the night with such sentimental and sweet gestures. She nodded and a shyness swept through her.

He held out his hand with an intimate look in his eye.

"Let me just grab my key-" She turned, but he caught her hand. When he took her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss, her knees weakened.

"You look stunning. I had to kiss you," he said, his voice low and intimate as he slowly lowered her hand. "We wouldn't leave your room if I kissed your mouth." His hand drifted up to cup her cheek, and his thumb glided over her bottom lip.

Her heart flipped with palpitations. This quiet, confident man was who she'd fallen in love with. How had he come back so fast after these past few days had been so hard?

"Come down to the beach with me, Emma."

Scooping up the room key that he pocketed for her, she took his arm without any words needing to be spoken. The companionable silence as he led her down the hall seemed so perfect. She glanced at him in the elevator and flushed. His intense gaze didn't waiver.

The butterflies beat faster and lifted her heart to the clouds. When the elevator doors opened, she bit her lip with a smile and tugged his arm. It was as if he read her mind. Within two steps out of the elevator, she danced across the empty lobby in his arms, his rhythm matching the beat of her heart.

The smile on his lips lit up his eye to a beautiful, vibrant blue like the ocean. He twirled her around the room, her two left feet somehow falling into perfect sync with him for every dance. Her skirt fluttered in the breeze they created, and her curls bounced on her neck.

He swept toward the back hotel deck, and a petite maid stepped out on his blind side. "Stop, Jason!" She jerked to a halt, slowing his momentum, and stumbled into his chest when his weight pulled her forward. When he caught her with a frown of confusion, she flushed and nodded to the maid. The poor woman look up from two feet below him with wide eyes.

"My apologies, madam," he said with a nod, although unable to taper the smile still on his face. Either the woman stared because of the mask or because she'd almost been trampled. He didn't seem to pay any heed.

He held the door to the deck open. The last rays of sun painted the sky a beautiful rainbow. Waves crashed and rolled on the beach as seagulls flew overhead for their last meal of the day. A calm, salty breeze tugged at her hair and skirt. The music of Nature couldn't have been more perfect.

"Let's leave our shoes."

She turned to see him barefoot and holding open one of several tiny square hotel lockers on the deck. Slipping off her sandals, she set them on top of his shoes.

"Would you like the rose in there?"

She looked at him and shook her head, holding it to her chest. He smiled, seeming pleased that she didn't want to give it up. So he closed the locker and pocketed the key before offering his arm again.

"I like this," she said as he led the way down the deck steps to the beach. He looked at her in question. "Holding your arm when we walk. It's...I don't know how to describe it...comforting and safe."

He laid his hand over hers and his brow creased. A sadness settled. "I hope you'll always feel like that with me from now on."

She shook her head and glanced up at him. "No more talk of earlier this week. It's done, and we move forward."

A sigh escaped him, but he let it drop. "How are you doing with him, Emma? You don't seem to have nightmares lately."

The sweet man's brow furrowed, with deep concern creating a wrinkle in the corner of his eye. She shook her head and looked down at the sand. "When I was at your house, the nightmares mostly went away. They came back full force when I left, but they've receeded again this past week."

He gave her arm a soft squeeze with his hand. "You are welcome to come in my room any time you need to, especially if you have a nightmare. I leave my connecting door ajar a bit at night."

She smiled at the sand. Of course he left it open in case she needed him. He'd do nothing less. Then the smile died. "Have you heard when the real trial is scheduled?"

He sighed deeply. "The fake one happens in two days, and Frank said he has a female FBI agent who is going to dress like you and walk down the street in Chicago to the trial. He expects an attempted kidnapping, but the FBI is going to be swarming before she's even pulled into a car. If it goes as planned, the actual trial will be the following week."

Her fingers dug into his arm at the idea of having to face Gaston again. Of having to relive the nightmares.

He pulled him arm free and wrapped it around her, guiding her arm around his waist. Then his right hand interlaced with hers on his hip. "I'm coming to the trial. If you don't want me to hear the details, I'll wear earplugs. But you need someone there with you."

"My mom-"

"Don't lie, Emma. Your mother doesn't know about it, or she'd be going crazy calling you. Frank said your real cell in his possession hasn't gone off once. Do you not want me there?"

"They'll play the tape." She stared at the sand, the humiliation threatening to break loose. Not tonight. Tonight was supposed to be perfect and special.

"I wish to know everything that happened-when you're ready, sweetheart. You've only alluded to things." He seemed to hesitate his words as they reached the shoreline. "Here me out before you get upset."

She looked up at him, the fading golden sunset lending a warm glow to his gentle features. He stopped to face her and searched her eyes. She tilted her head when he took her hands.

"The day I took you to the hospital for the concussion, do you remember when I helped you out of the tub that day? How scared you were?"

With a nod, she frowned. He seemed so sad and worried. His vibrant blue eye called until she leaned too far and fell into his gaze-fell into where it was so safe and wonderful to float in like the ocean. The tranquillity in his voice lessened the fear and sadness.

"You seemed too frightened for just an ex having once broken into your apartment. I called the rape therapist that afternoon while you were at the hospital, the therapist with whom you've spoken. She gave some suggestions for how to not frighten you if I needed to carry you or what-have-you. I haven't spoken to her about physical intimacy, and I should have long before this." His eye softened and his voice dropped to an intimate, low hum that resignated with the depths of her soul. "Tell me what makes you feel safe, Emma."

The way he cupped her cheek with such gentle tenderness made her eyes flutter shut. A sweet calmness swept through, steadying the beat of her heart. He had such a way about him that made fears and worries slip away, his arms shielding out the world so only peace thrived. She rested a hand on his chest, the vibrations of his heart strong and steady. Her other hand cupped his on her cheek, and she leaned into his warm touch. "This," she whispered and stepped into his arms. "When you're so gentle. Sometimes I want the raw passion, but it's the moments like this that make me not afraid. When the passion does burn, I'm not scared. Your rough isn't rough because I can feel you reading every inch of me for signs of fear." She looked up at him, with the stars beginning to twinkle above. "That's what makes me feel safe."

His face softened, and he cradled hers in his hands. "Emma," he whispered, his breath warm over her lips. "Close your eyes."

Oh how those words had become so intimate and romantic. They always meant he was about to take off his mask for a kiss. She closed her eyes, her pulse quickening. He hadn't kissed her like this since before his oral surgery; he'd said he wouldn't for another month or two yet until the implants. But that didn't matter and wouldn't lessen the beauty of his kiss. But maybe he wouldn't want to give more than a brush of his lips.

His lips pressed hard, his head tilted with the right side up so he wouldn't have such trouble with needing to swallow often from his missing lip. The gauze was gone. He pulled her close. She gasped in surprise and hunger when he showed no sign of holding back. Her arms slipped around his chest to mold their bodies. Her heart took off, and she returned his kiss with equal pressure. She followed his lead and matched the open mouth kiss. A time or two, her lip brushed the gap in his lower lip where his poor toothless gum was bared. It was soft and warm, although a bit dry from air exposure. If she hadn't known better, it would have seemed almost like his lip. His hot tongue plunged into her mouth, and his arms tightened as her knees weakened. She gasped and rose onto her toes to press her hips against his arousal. He'd never kissed like this with so much passion.

It became apparent he had either some paralysis or severe muscle damage on the right side of his mouth. Between that and the missing portion of lip, the right side of his mouth dragged against hers slightly. What some women might have found unappealing only seemed more beautiful because of his faith in her love, that she wouldn't pull away. He seemed to trust and simply be, getting lost in the kiss.

But when her nose grazed hardened skin on his cheek, he started to pull back. She rose onto her toes to follow and not break the kiss, her soft whimper of protest cutting above the crashes of the ocean waves. Fisting handfuls of his shirt at his back, she held on tight to keep him from breaking away.

He relented and his hands dove into her hair. His hot pants mingled with hers, and he nipped her lower lip enough to make apparent his desire. She untucked his shirt, sighing as her hands dove inside over his warm, hard muscles. His gentle hands slid under the back of her tank to carress her lower back as her tongue danced with his. The moment he seemed to start having trouble swallowing fast enough, he pulled back.

She rested her head on his chest, her heart pounding while he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the corner of his mouth. Then his arms wrapped around her, his speech slightly impaired without the mask or gauze to serve as a lip. "Um, I think I dropped the mask." He chuckled, to her surprise.

Lifting her head, she looked around in the sand. It had grown quite dark during their interlude, and only a quarter moon gave light to the starry night. "Oh no, I think it's in the water." She pointed to where a small object bobbed in the waves just a few feet out and took a step into the water.

He caught her arm and pulled her back. "Sharks feed after dusk. You're not going out there."

"It's maybe waist deep at most." She looked at his profile.

"No."

That tone didn't beg argument.

"It's not worth one of us being mauled or eaten. It might wash back up. If not, I'll figure something else out." He didn't sound too distraught.

She nibbled her lip and watched it bob farther away. "Is it expensive?"

He sat in the dry sand and held up his hand to help her. "No, and sit, Emma. We'll wait a few minutes."

"Jason, it's going farther out. It's right there-"

He grabbed her hand and held fast. "Emma Adelaide Hoplin, sit. Now." He jerked, and she plopped into his lap. His arms locked around her waist.

"How do you know my middle name?" She craned her neck to look over her shoulder. "It's a horrible name from my great-grandma."

"I have my ways." His gaze remained focused on the water. "It's a beautiful English rendition of a German name." She didn't say anything. "If it makes you feel better, the government gave me stuffy 'Phillip' for a middle name because it was one of the few not in my family tree."

She frowned and turned sideways in his lap to see his left profile. "They took away all family lines? What name did your parents give you?"

"Old Scottish tradition is to name the firstborn son after the paternal grandfather and the middle name after the mother's surname, so I was Andrew Thomason O'Malley. Even though I didn't know any of my relatives, it was nice to have some kind of tie to family." He glanced at her before returning his gaze to the mask. It started to wash up, so he lifted her off his lap and onto the sand and retrieved it.

"Your given name suits you." She wrapped her arms around her knees when he sat down again. "Your new middle name isn't so bad. Can you ever go back to your real name if they catch these men?"

He shook his head. "There's always the risk of someone wanting revenge. Even if I wanted to, I can't go meet family. Frank got quite angry when I called my ex and told her I'm alive, but I trust her. She understands the consequences that it'd probably be a bullet this time rather than a fire to ensure my death."

Her stomach lurched at the thought of him dying. A wave of protectiveness swept up, followed by possessiveness. A tiny part didn't want him to trust another woman, especially his ex. The woman had caused so much damage to his self-confidence, if not his heart. She didn't deserve any part of him for that.

"I-"

She cut off his words with a kiss, climbing on top to press him down in the sand. Taking the mask and setting it aside, she captured his wrists and held them down beside his shoulders. "Don't talk about dying. Or your ex," she mumbled against his lips.

A hint of intrigue came through in his tone. "Does she make you jealous?" The idea that a woman could be jealous over him seemed to come as a surprise, which broke her heart. His hips shifted slightly underneath her pelvis, as if a bit excited.

In a heartbeat, she cupped his hands on her breasts and crushed his lips with a kiss. He moaned softly and firmly massaged. His hips rocked slow and steady, igniting a fever and sending heat swirling between her thighs. Lying on his back seemed to help him not have to wipe his mouth-his hot tongue dove into her mouth to stroke her tongue deeper than he ever had before. At her moan of pleasure, he cupped the back of her head, his wet kiss demanding and raw. His other hand grabbed her bottom, his fingers biting into her flesh. And he rocked her along the length of his arousal. Her heart pounded faster and faster.

Oh god, his confident demands of her body mounted the pleasure. He seemed to forget his burns and disabilities and was simply a man making love to a woman. His confidence that he could bring her pleasure tenfolded the desire. Oh sweet heaven, her heart hurt from swelling with more love than it could contain. Her hand cupped his strong jaw that flexed with power and grace. She grabbed a handful of his shirt to keep from stroking his burn to prove that her love wouldn't fade because of scars.

He released her head to reach down and cup her bottom with both hands. Only, his hand reached around under her skirt, and his finger stroked through her thin cotton panties. Just as she gasped in surprise, his finger shoved inside just a bit, hindered by the cloth barrier. "Oh god, Jay," she choked and collapsed on his chest as her body contracted, trying to draw him in deeper. Her thighs squeezed his hips. Her heart thundered, the desire so strong every pulse created a throb between her legs. "Please," she whimpered against his neck, trembling.

"Emma, you're in charge of stopping us tonight."

Oh dear god, his voice was so husky and deep. "No sex," she panted and didn't move, waiting to see what his hand would do.

His finger withdrew and gave a single stroke along the length of her desire. She whimpered and jerked against his hand.

"And no touching under clothes. It's a hard line so we don't get carried away, Em."

She nodded, willing to agree to anything right now. He gave her bottom a swat, not even hard enough to sting. She jumped, excited by his display of control, and lifted her head slightly to look at the good side of his face. He looked stern in the dim moonlight.

"You aren't even listening. What did I say?"

She bit her lip with a smile. His hand hovering between her legs again made it difficult to think. "Um...no clothes off?" Or maybe it was no pulling her panties aside?

He heaved a sigh and then his fingers tickled along the length of her. Only the 'tickles' made her cry out and buck with pleasure. Then his thumb pressed half its length into her. She grabbed his shoulders and gasped, trying to drop her weight onto his hand to penetrate deeper. Her heart slammed.

He pulled his hand away, instead grabbing her bottom with both hands and holding her down on his hips to still her. "You're still hormonal, aren't you?"

She tried to pull his hands away to rub against his hips. Oh god, he needed to let go. She needed sex. "I got ovulation pain late this month." Ugh, he wouldn't let go of her hips.

"How late?"

"Yeaterday." She squirmed and tried to pry away his hand.

"Oh good," he replied dryly. "The hormonal woman with cravings to get pregnant is in charge of us not having sex."

"I'll be good." Dammit, he had a firm grip to keep her from moving.

His hand slipped under and rubbed quick for only a moment. Her breasts tightened, and her body coiled. Her head fell back and she moaned, grinding his hips hard. "Yes. Jay," she whimpered, coiling as the pleasure raced to peak. She grabbed his hand and...

He pulled it away and gave a harder swat on her bottom, enough to sting just a tad. Then he rolled them over and landed on top, holding her wrists above her head. "You aren't going to abide by your word." It was dark enough that his face hid in the night, but his voice rang with a hint of displeasure.

She bit her lip with a smile. "I will...are you going to punish me, Dr. Port?" Damn, even his silhouette outlined his sexy muscles.

He groaned with sexual frustration. "If you were my wife, I'd bed you all night so you'd be too tired to cause trouble tomorrow."

A shiver of delight skittered up her spine at both his naughty promise and alluding to being wed.

He sighed and transferred both of her wrists to one hand, his other traveling down to shove up her bra through her tank and rub the peak of her breast erect. "Alas, we aren't and putting a babe in you tonight-"

Oh dear god, his talk of impregnating made her throb and grow wetter, if possible. She writhed under him. Yes, swelling with his baby sounded so sexy and wonderful. He'd probably stroke her belly and talk to the baby every day during the pregnancy. He'd be a wonderful husband and an even better father. She squirmed again.

"Is not a wise idea, so sex is out of the question." But his hand strayed down between her legs. With his thumb he stroked her nub, and his finger carressed just inside of her desire. The pleasure shot so hard and fast she didn't even have time to gasp before it hit.

She tugged her hands, and he released her wrists while her body rolled and slowly rocked with release. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she held tight to the only being who could put her back together after shattering from this euphoria.

His weight pressed her into the sand as he cradled her close, still stroking to guide her back down from Heaven. "I love you," he whispered in her ear.

"I love you," she sighed, her body growing weak with exhaustion.

He settled beside her, and she curled up to rest her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said I'd be in charge tonight." She stroked his chest.

"I don't mind. Plus, it would be quite obvious going back inside the hotel if I was the one who was pleasured.

"Your hair smells a hint different, and I wanted to have sex while we were talking about your ex." He practically spat the last word out. "I figured you must be fertile because I usually want to punch something when we talk about him."

"You knew?" She frowned.

"I suspected. Men can sometimes smell when a female is fertile. The pheromones cause a rise in testosterone."

She laughed. "You know weird things."

"I've been meaning to tell you, with the utmost respect, that you have a great bottom."

She blinked at the sudden change of topic. "Bottom?" she teased.

"'Ass' seems a tad crass to say to a lady in regular conversation. And you have wonderful breasts. And really hot legs. When you walk in tall heels and a short skirt..." He almost growled. "I really want to rip off your clothes." He caught her thigh to pull her leg over his hips. "Everything about you is so damn hot." He started to harden against her knee. "But I mean it with-"

"The utmost respect," she finished with him and laughed. "You really have to work on not having such a fine body yourself, and maybe I won't want to jump you all the time."

He fell silent and laced his fingers with hers, resting their hands on his stomach as they curled up together under the stars. "You really don't mind the scars, do you?"

Such grief filled his voice. She squeezed his hand. "No, Jay, I don't." He seemed so sad...too sad for this conversation they'd had before.

"Emma," he said, his voice so soft. "I need to tell you about Charlotte."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, Callico11852, Sophia, and YazminXD. :)**

* * *

Her heart beat faster with dread. Charlotte obviously meant a lot to him, and he'd named the chopper and foundation after her. Nausea swam up. Maybe an ex. Her heart froze. He'd never said that he'd never been married. Probably a devoted, God-loving first wife saint who'd died doing missionary work overseas or something. She sat up and stared out at the ocean.

He sat up beside her, draping his arms over his bent knees. "W-"

"Wait." She held up a hand and drew a shakey breath. "Was she your wife?"

"Pardon?"

Her stomach twisted in hard knots. "If she was your wife or something, I need you to lead into this and not drop it on me."

"Emma, I've never been married." His voice rang quiet and sad. "She was two years old and not any relative of mine."

Silence. She turned her head and looked at his grief-stricken face. A toddler. A patient he'd operated on who had died? But he wasn't a peds surgeon.

He stared out over the ocean, his hands clasped tight. "Did Stevens and Ms. Van Hoodie tell you about the fire?"

"They did." She frowned in concern and slipped her arm through his. He didn't even seem to notice. "Pete said there was a scream from in the building after you pulled him out. You went in but didn't come out."

Every one of his emotions shut down, and he became a blank, unreadable wall. "The building had started collapsing minutes before, and the firechief called off the firefighters because it was too dangerous to go in. The last two firefighters inside dragged out the woman who lived below me. She screamed with everything she had that her baby was still inside. Everyone was accounted for. Except the two-year-old little girl." He smiled to himself. "I would come home from the hospital on night shift, and she'd peek outside the window every morning like clockwork. Then she'd run to the door and open it when I'd get in the hallway. I brought her a sticker every day. The first time we met, she'd fallen off her tricycle on the sidwalk and scraped her knee. I had come home and happened to have a 'Thank You' purchase sticker on a gallon of milk from the store." He shrugged. "Her mother couldn't console her, so I gave her the sticker and said it came from a magic cow. After that, she started opening the door every day to see if I had another sticker. I ended up buying them from the store and keeping them in my wallet. Each one had a story, like it came from Santa or the Easter Bunny or something. She loved it."

She smiled with a heavy heart. How very much like him to get wrapped around a little girl's finger.

He ran a hand through his hair in distress. "I don't remember how many people I helped out of that fire. Charles seemed to keep pace with me. Maybe ten altogether? We were both covered in soot and had trouble breathing from it, but the adrenaline was going. And we'd been trained in the SEALS how to not panic and had the stamina to push through with limited air. We thought we were fucking invincible.

"We heard this terrified little girl's scream. He looked at me, and we took off. He went through the back and I took the front to see who could reach her before the whole place collapsed."

She slipped her hand in his, the terrible ending to the story already apparent.

"I got to her and yelled for Charles to get out, if he could've even heard. Something no one ever talks about is how loud flames are as they devour everything. She clung to my neck, her face tucked against the left side. The smoke was so thick I couldn't see anything, and there wasn't time to try crawling beneath the smoke. The entire place creaked as it got ready to cave in. The apartment was the same layout as mind, so I ran through blindly to where I though there was a window. It was a wall. I remember hearing a deafening crash to my right, and I should've known. I should've moved, Emma," he whispered. "I looked to the left to try to gain my bearings. And then incredible pain exploded through my head. I was unconscious for the next few days."

He released a shaky breath, and her hand tightened in his. His shoulders sagged with grief. "They said a beam swung down and hit me. Charles dragged me to a window and yelled for help. The firefighters pulled me out the window..." His voice strained to continue. "The place caved in and crushed Charles. They never found Charlotte." His face crumpled and voice broke. "They both died because of me. I should've crawled below the fire to find the window. Charlotte would've gotten out, and Charles wouldn't have wasted time trying to drag me out."

Oh god. Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard. Not only the burns and PTSD but survivor's guilt haunted him. "Jason-"

"Charlotte's parents blamed me when the firefighters said I should've crawled out and she might've lived. I called them a few days later after I was off the respirator, hoping she'd gotten out and just wandered away or something." His voice faded away.

"What did they say?"

He shook his head. "They blamed me for the death of their baby. They had fertility issues and had gone almost bankrupt adopting her. I'd robbed them of a daughter and of ever having children. The mother said she never wanted to speak to me again." He sniffled and pulled out his phone, typed something, and handed it to her.

It was the rest of the newspaper article about his fake death.

 _Mrs. Mary Wilson, mother of the toddler who died in the fire, says, "Andrew didn't deserve to die. He should've had to live as a monster and be reminded with every breath of the precious little life he took because of his arrogance." Tears run down her face, as she struggles to catch her breath. "We'll never see her go to her first day of school or her first father-daughter dance. Or see her go to Prom or graduate college. She'll never run to the door and squeal with her arms wide open when her father comes home from work. He killed our baby."_

 _Some claim Andrew O'Malley and Charles Schwan were heroes for saving nearly a dozen lives. Others only remember O'Malley for the death of little Charlotte and Hero Schawn. Funeral services will be held on Wednesday..._

"But, the firefighters weren't going in, and she would've died anyways. She needs to blame someone, and you're the easiest one, Jason. It's not fair or right, but it's how she deals with grief. Charles knew the risk, and he wanted to go in with you." She turned to face his profile. "He was like you, Jason. He wouldn't regret having saved you. This isn't your fault." She handed him back his phone.

He pocketed it. "That's what the therapists say too. It's not what the firefighters and other people say," he snorted, sounding so bitter.

"That's why you started Charlotte's Hope, isn't it? Because she'd be a burn victim too if she'd have lived. And I bet you got the chopper when she would've been five years old. What have you made yourself sacrifice for Charles?"

He bowed his head. "Charles wanted to do research and make cardiac medicine better."

She stroked his arm. His life revolved around penance for sins he shouldn't pay. Not only had his life turned upside down from the burns and guilt he carried, but he lived the lives of others. "And you? If you could do whatever profession you want, what would you do?" He shook his head. "Tell me. What's your passion, Jason? Not Charles's or what you think you owe Charlotte."

"A fetal and neonatal cardiologist." He shook his head. "But a surgeon can't have trouble with depth perception. It doesn't even matter, Emma."

"But you don't have to be a surgeon. You could diagnose and-"

He shot up and paced a bit away, keeping his good side toward her even though clouds shrouded the moon. "God, Emma, just let it be!" He slashed a hand through the air. "The world doesn't have magical fixes!"

She surged to her feet and caught his arm. "No, but it doesn't have to be doors locking in you in a dark room either!" He jerked his arm away, so much pain and anger radiating. "Yes, you have limitations from the fire, but they do not have to be walls."

He spun around, the darkness his cloak. "Then what are they?" he snarled. "Half blind and deaf, with a mangled face. What is your glorious fix?"

Clenching her teeth, she held back the surging frustration and anger. He felt guilty and vulnerable right now. Again, he was having an emotional outburst and incredibly intense feelings. She cocked her head for a moment. "Have you always been introverted? Always had just a handful of friends?"

"Why?" His voice rang with defensiveness.

"Have you ever been tested to see if you're a genius?"

A very irritated sigh filled the darkness.

"No, Jason, I'm serious. Yes, you have some signs of PTSD, but it seems like some of these things are characteristics of being gifted. You're incredibly self-motivated and excelled in college when you barely put in effort in the first twelve years of school-I would guess it was because you were bored. When you got into college in courses that interested you, your grades soared. I mean this in a nice way, but we found that you need time for self-reflection in order to function. You're introverted and obviously are talented in investments, medicine, redesigning your house, and a dozen other things. You have high morals..." She bit her lip and searched his face in the darkness. "Don't get upset, but you can be very emotional. Sometimes the only way to reach you is to get you so upset the anger comes out and burns off a temper."

Silence. "This isn't funny, Emma," he growled. "I tell you that I'm responsible for the death of two innocent people, and you turn it into this?"

"No! I'm trying to help you deal with it." She laid a hand on her chest. "I don't know how you expected me to react, but you're not some criminal for making a choice that you thought was right at the time! Yes, it's tragic, but you don't stop living because of an accident. You've seen therapists on and off, but they obviously haven't helped much because you're a hermit, Jason. Think about this. Things were getting rough being with me twenty-four seven, and then she suggested you have time alone. It was almost an instant fix." She snapped her fingers. "PTSD doesn't respond like that. And when we're being intimate, you can read me like you're in my head-you're intensely empathetic, Jason."

He walked away a few feet, seeming to struggle with his temper. "You have a sick need to help disturbed things," he growled. He needed to burn off his anger, so she remained silent. "You should be horrified that I'm responsible for killing a baby and the man who was like a father to me. You should run from my face, you truly should. Here in the dark if you saw, you would be terrified. Sometimes I want to show you when you wouldn't expect it so you'd get scared and leave." His pain grabbed her heart and squeezed to the point of it struggling to beat. "It was Hell to wake up every day and have to live with all of this. I've wanted to succumb to the pneumonia and other complications so many times." Something in his voice softened the bitterness. "And then you swept in and brought the sun and joy. I wake up now because of you. You're the only one who has never, at any point, looked at me like I'm a horrific creature. Even Stevens and Ms. Van Hoodie get scared if they expect me to have the mask on but I don't." THe anger burned away. "You say you look to me as a mentor, but you're so much stronger than you realize, Emma. I'd be lost without you," he whispered.

Wiping away her tears, she walked over and took his hands. But no words existed for the deep emotions that consumed her. Love wasn't even a big enough word. She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He buried his face against her neck, his arms engulfing her in their safety. "I'm so of not belonging anywhere, Emma. Of being everyone's monster."

"You belong here," she whispered and held him tighter. "You're my hero who keeps away my monsters, Jason. The nightmares fade when you're around."

His grip tightened, her words seeming to go straight to his heart. The silence stretched on. "You don't think I'm a child killer?"

Tears burned behind her eyes. "Who called you that?" she asked softly.

"Who hasn't?" he whispered.

She rested a cheek on his chest. "You're simply a man who made a mistake in a judgement call. The person who hasn't ever done that can cast the first stone, and it can't be me."

"You never caused a child's death." His heart thundered harder than a storm under her ear, and his voice shook.

"And you never intentionally did either. I know you don't see it as such, but everything you did that night was honorable and had honorable intentions. If you have any sins from that night, your face has paid your penance. I'm not trying to create a magical fix for things, I'm just trying to help you move on, Jason."

"I know," he whispered and held her tight, pressing a kiss atop her head. "I kick and scream, but I need you to pull. I'm in this black hole so far sometimes that I don't know how to get out. Or if I deserve to." Warm tears fell on her bare shoulder.

Tears gathered in her own eyes. "You do, Jason. You do." He carried so much weight, and it seemed like it would never end. "Let's find someone who is qualified to ask if you're gifted. Maybe not, but it seems like maybe survivor's guilt, PTSD, and characteristics of a gifted person are getting tangled."

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll ask someone, and he'll say I'm below IQ. Then I don't want to hear about it anymore."

"Deal."

"And there's probably an intelligence test involved. You have to take it too."

She lifted her head to look up even though the darkness shrouded his face. "What?"

"Or the deal is off. You're far more intelligent than you believe, so we'll prove it. You don't have to tell me the score, just take the test."

"Fine," she sighed. She picked up his mask and her rose in the sand. "Now, Dr. Port, we need a break from this heavy stuff." Then she wrapped an arm around him. "Come. It's so dark out now, we'll find shells in the morning. Let's go rent a movie."

He seemed so solemn yet, needing coaxing out of the dolldrums. She held his arm and glanced at him as they walked through the lobby to the elevators. The hotel was empty, so he didn't bother holding on the mask...until the elevator doors opened to their floor and an older woman stood there to get on. The woman looked at him. And screamed in horror.

She startled from the noise, and he whipped away, jerking her arm from his to shove on the mask. "Sorry," he muttered and grabbed her hand to drag her out.

Glancing back, she glared at the woman who darted into the elevator as if the Devil nipped at her heels. He released her hand, keeping his eye downcast in shame and holding on the mask. The water must've ruined the adhesive tape. She trotted to keep up. "Jason, it's alright."

He dug her keycard out of his pocket, his long strides not yielding. "You say that until one day that's your scream." He jammed the card in the door and opened it before turning to go to his own room.

She pulled him inside her room, shut the door, and grabbed his shirtfront. "I love you," she whispered. Then she caught his hand holding on the mask and eased it away, pressing her lips to his for a hearty kiss and neither avoided nor aimed for the maimed side of his mouth. She simply kissed. Her tongue ran over his lips, encountering the missing portion and bumpy scars before diving into his mouth to dance with his tongue.

He dropped the mask in a heartbeat and wrapped his arms around her, as if starving for affection. He tried to lay her down on the bed, but she pulled back with a smile. "No. If we start that, you know we won't stop."

"I don't care. If you get pregnant, I'll marry you." His hand wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her closer. His voice poured low and husky through the darkness.

She laid her hands on his far too sexy chest to hold him back. "Is that the only way you'd agree to having babies? Accidentally getting me pregnant?" A smile tugged at her lips. At least now he was talking of babies.

He pulled her close, his intent blatant and against her belly. "You do something to me, Emma, because I really want to put a baby in you." His hands slid up her sides under the tanktop. "You'd be so sexy while pregnant." He kissed her neck. And then her bare collarbone, lifting her tank to bare her belly. The beautiful man sank to his knees and trailed kisses down her belly and hooked a finger on her skirt waistband to pull it down a bit. She buried her fingers in his hair and clasped his right shoulder. "To watch you grow with our baby right here," he whispered and pressed a kiss on her lower belly.

Her eyes rolled back and heart raced. "Please, Jay. I'd marry you, baby or not. Make love to me."

His hand locked around her hip while his other skimmed up her thigh. "You'd let me, wouldn't you? Seeing the fear women have of my face wouldn't deter you."

"No," she whispered. "I see a man who is good and kind. You'll never be a monster to me, Jay."

His hand slid up to rest beside her panties, just an inch from where pleasure awaited. Her mouth fell open, and every muscle coiled, ready for his touch.

He slipped her panties off, her own heartbeat roaring in her ears. "I won't touch you, and it's too dark to see," he whispered. His hand slid up her thigh, the erotic sensation tenfolded simply knowing no barrier existed.

She clasped his shoulders and trembled for his touch, struggling to not drop down on his hand. He trusted her self-control, and so she'd abide by it if it killed her. Clutching his shirt in a white-knuckled grip, her body quivered hard with need.

"Shhh," he whispered and stood to ease her onto the bed in his arms. Then he stood and held her hips to pull her to the edge of the bed. "Tell me if you want me to stop. I won't touch," he repeated, his deep baritone silky and calm. Then he knelt at the edge of the bed and laid his palms against the underside of her thighs, easing pressure so her knees bent. "It's alright," he soothed. "I'm just going to hold your weight."

It opened her to him, completely vulnerable and exposed. She tensed for a split instant, and then a soft blow of warm air swept over her desire. Pleasure battled wih memories. Hands holding apart her thighs. But pleasure came instead of pain. His hands stroked her thighs, enhancing the pleasure. She panted, forcing away the fear, and let her hips rock with desire. "Jason," she whispered and pulled his hands up to stroke her breasts. Sweet heaven, she was ready for him to make love. Then he pulled her skirt down and dabbed soft kisses with his lips where she quivered for his touch. He didn't rub or lick or become too intimate, but just the idea of it washed pleasure over her. Oh god, she needed pressure. Grabbing his hand, she pressed the flat of it between her legs and rocked hard. "Yes, Jay," she whimpered, warmth surging throughout her body as she climbed to Heaven. Her hands clutched the sheets as tension coiled. He lifted her skirt and blew a soft puff. She cried out in release, her body rocking of it's own accord as fireworks exploded. He shifted his hands to her inner thighs to keep them apart as he softly blew.

His hands touched the same spots Gaston's had to force her legs apart. Her eyes shot open. The pleasure vanished. Her heart slammed with fear. "No!" She shoved his hands away and scrambled backwards on the bed. Losing her bearings in the dark, she slammed a shoulder into the wall trying to find the light. It was Gaston. His breathing rasped louder and louder. Something brushed her back. She flung out an arm to encounter air. He was in the room. Her nails clawed the walls for the lightswitch. The floor creaked. Her heart thundered. She couldn't breathe. Bells rang so loud in her ears that it hurt. A deep voice said something unintelligible. A bead of sweat trickled down her back. The lights flipped on. She whipped around with wide eyes to face Gaston.

Jason stood on the opposite side of the room and straightened from turning on the endtable lamp. He moved with the slowness of a sloth and held up his hands. "It's just me, Emma. No one else is here. It's safe."

Jason. It was Jason. Her throat was closing up and the room swayed. He was safe. Darting over, she flung herself against his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

His froze for a moment, as if shocked, and then cocooned her in his arms. "You're hyperventiliating. Hold your breath until I get to five, sweetheart. One, two, three, four, five," he soothed and held so tight it was hard to breathe too deep. "Good girl." His calm voice purred so soft. "Again."

This time the ringing stopped and the throat tightness faded. His sheltering arms gradually loosened around her, and he took slow, deep breaths that she matched. He smelled warm and earthy, with a hint of the sea. His heart thudded slow and steady against her cheek. "Talk," she panted. It was too easy for him to morph back into Gaston without seeing or hearing him.

His fingertips touched the pulse at her neck for a moment. Then his deep voice flowed smooth and gentle as he sang their Moonlight Serenade song, slowly swaying without moving his feet.

Warm safety. The deep vibrations in his chest washed over her like the calm, relaxing waves of the ocean. Her heartbeat eased and fell into the peaceful rhythm of his. Her eyes drifted closed as his feet ever so slowly began to glide into a waltz. Something in his voice made the last of the fear slip away. His love crept in where the fear left a hollowness inside. Sweet tears of relief and devotion burned behind her closed eyelids. He'd always be here, safe and strong. Her right hand drifted down his arm to take his hand. His voice caressed her ears as his hand curled around hers and cradled it against his chest. This was her Heaven-her Jason.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: Thanks for the input, everyone! Firstly, a big thanks to Callico11852 for speaking up and saying the drama was too much-a very constructive criticism with explaining the reasoning and without bashing the story. Reviews are opinions, but I also see them as ways to get constructive criticism to enhance writing. Reviews have been scarce, so I asked for everyone's feedback because I wasn't sure if this was just one reader's view or several readers (indicating a writing style problem). I was shocked to get not just a handful of replies but nearly 20! The vote was split close to down the middle. And I appreciate that readers didn't start arguing with each other or anything. I asked for opinions, and that's what you gave. After getting everyone's feedback, I looked back at my other manuscripts and saw the drama pattern there too. When I sit down and write a group of chapters, my head works for some reason as seeing it like a TV episode that needs its own drama. That's writing a TV series, not a novel. So, I ask that you all help me work on this skill as I retrain myself because this is a writing style flaw that would probably have publishing houses slam the door in my face.**

 **Plus during the feedback, some readers pointed out that it was like, he's scarred and she's scarred so now he'll accept her, etc, which kinda horrified me because it didn't occur to me that's how it could be interpreted. I wanted him to have a role in helping her like she has him, but clearly it wasn't a good way to present that. It sounds like the readers who liked the deleted chapters liked it because of the relationship the chapters built between Jason and Emma. Again, Callico11852 pointed out that is there already, I just need to tap into it. I liked that point, and I think I figured out how to tap into it without adding drama. I think building on the existing issue with Gaston and Jason trying to overcome the wall she's put up about it will draw out and build that strong emotional connection in a more organic fashion.**

 **Secondly, I really liked the first story, but this sequel feels like it's floundering at times. I get now why they say don't be a "by the seat of your pants" writer-I had a fairly solid outline for the first story but a very loose outline for this one. It really came back to bite me when I decided I should do an outline from here to the end-I had to backtrack a couple chapters and take a different road. The last handful of paragraphs in Ch. 20 are new.**

* * *

"Tell me what happened, Emma." His quiet tone overflowed with patience and tranquility as he continued the gentle swaying of the dance. "I won't do this anymore, sweetheart - me not knowing what he did and triggering these attacks in you. I won't torture you, and I won't teach you to fear me."

Her hands tightened on him, and her heart picked up pace a little. "You touched where he pried my legs apart," she whispered.

"Oh, Emma, I'm sorry-" His arms tightened, and head bowed a little more so his cheek rested closer to her ear.

She shook her head. "You didn't know."

"Does it frighten you when we kiss in the dark?"

She didn't want to remember, didn't want to talk about it. It made sharp pain and grief shoot through her heart to remember. "Not if you talk to me so I know it's you." Pulling out of his arms, she escaped to the bathroom and shut the door.

Oh god, between her thighs hurt like it hadn't since all those years ago. The touch of Gaston branded as fresh as if it'd just happened all over again. Defiled. Dirty. The warmth from Jason's hands blurred into Gaston's touch. She had to wash. Stripping each article of clothing off faster than the one before, she flung them aside, jerked on the shower knob, and got in without even waiting for the water to warm up. The freezing cold drops pounded down like piercing needles, drawing intense shivers. But she grabbed the soap and a rag and started scrubbing.

Her thighs. She scrubbed harder and harder to wash Gaston's touch off until the skin glowed red. The nerves still tingled from his touch. From Jason's touch, no Gaston's. The scar. Her skin crawled having the goddamn scar that wouldn't fade in it's pink color all these years later. The hideous, twisted reminder of flesh had to rub away eventually. Harder. If she scrubbed harder, maybe the excess skin would wear away. She whimpered and her face crumpled when the flesh around it started to bleed but the scar itself refused to yield.

"Emma." Jason's voice carried firm but calm from the other side of the curtain, as if knowing exactly what she was doing.

She sniffled and moved on to between her legs. Why did it hurt from Gaston? How could it? Oh god, she was going crazy in her own body, insane in her own head. The rag scraped across the delicate flesh like sandpaper, drawing a whimper of pain. But she had to get clean, had to get traces of Gaston off.

"Emma, stop." The lights flipped off and the curtain rustled. "That's enough," he coaxed, his hand following her arm and prying the rag out of her hand. Then his arms wrapped around her. His chest pressed soggy against her chest and belly, as if he still wore his clothes. "He can't hurt you anymore, angel," he whispered.

Her fingers dug into his upper arms. All the pain that had been pushed down so well crept to the surface. The cries bubbled up hard, her mouth open for a sob yet she made no sound as her shoulders shook. She slowly sank down. Jason didn't let go. He slid down with her, sitting sideways in the tub with his knees bent up to fit. She curled up against his side, with his arms around her, and drew up her legs in the fetal position. The wound in her heart, so poorly healed, ripped open. Tears mingled with the water, her soft sobs echoing with the pounding waterdrops of the shower. Please no. Jason's tenderness kept peeling back the scab to reveal a wound she'd worked so hard to keep any little jostle from breaking it open. Why was he doing this? Why was he making the pain come back when it could be shoved deep down instead?

"Let it come, Emma," he whispered. "You can't heal until you let it come."

She shook her head, losing the battle as the pain became an all-consuming monster.

He simply held on, with his head bowed and cheek rested against her forehead. The light spray of water rained down, dripping from his nose onto her bare breasts. His head helped shield the water from her face as they got drenched. But he didn't seem to care. His chest shuddered against her. And then a soft sound of grief followed as he wept.

The demon tried to claw and pull her away. She held his arm tighter, becoming so lost to the darkness.

"I won't let go, sweetheart," he sniffled. His arm slipped behind her knees, and he scooped her into his lap. The sanctuary of his arms the only thing keeping her from drowning.

She cried until her heart shut down. The water ran cold, so he shifted and shut it off. He spread a towel over her, and his tearful sniffle cut through the silence. Then his fingers glided along her leg under the towel and found the scar. Her heart slammed with shame and humiliaton, and she tried to shove his hand away. He caught it and pressed her palm to the several-inch long bump and held his hand down over hers. His voice rang strong through the dark. "Be proud that you survived this. Whenever you're scared or doubt yourself, you touch this and remember you're strong, Emma. That you can get through anything without needing anyone but yourself."

Her lip quivered, and she shook her head against his shoulder. The panic attacks and night terrors and intense fear of men...she wasn't strong anymore. Gaston had broken everything, leaving a terrified, broken coward behind.

"You're strong, Emma," he commanded.

"He," she hiccupped, "he took my virginity that should've been yours. My dignity and safety..."

He choked on a sob and his voice broke. His arms wrapped around her tighter as his chest trembled from drawing a shakey breath. "He only has the power that you give him. You have the most dignity and grace of anyone I've met, sweetheart. Feeling safe will come." He stroked her cheek. "And," he croaked, finally losing the battle against the tears. His voice broke and quivered, portraying the crumpling of his face in the darkness. "And you are a virgin because when I make you my wife, I'll be the first man you're giving yourself to."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her face against his shoulder and wept for the grief and pain, but mostly for finding a man so full of kindness and love.

He held her close, not denying her the comfort even though her arm touched his burns.

* * *

Wearing her silk nightgown a bit later, she snuggled under the blankets in her bed with him shirtless in his pajama bottoms and mask. He seemed to sense her desperate need to not talk about what had happened in the shower, to pretend at least for tonight that it hadn't happened. But her heart said he wasn't going to let this pretending go past tonight. Tomorrow could be dealt with tomorrow. Right now she needed tonight. The sweet man ordered in exactly what she needed after a good cry - ice cream. And lots of cuddling.

Every so often, it was fun having a rich boyfriend. When he ordered the room service, he didn't bat an eye over paying thirty five dollars for ice cream and a tip.

He sipped his chocolate milkshake while she ate a bowl of mint ice cream. "I pictured you a vanilla man." She smiled up at him.

"Too plain. The strawberry is too sweet. Men are actually genetically programmed to like fruit less than women. And once you turn fifty, both men's and women's tastebuds change so they like vegetables more than fruits and sugars." He flipped the TV station.

"Really? Why do you know such random things?" she laughed. This was good. The distraction helped dull the pain lurking under the surface in her heart.

With his eye on the TV, he took another sip out of the straw and shrugged. "Stomach cell turnover is four hours, and if you injure your tongue, your tastebuds grow back in two weeks. The average woman eats five feet of lipstick over her lifetime. Human saliva has a boiling point of three times higher than water when our saliva is about ninety-eight percent water. It's a law that you cannot die in the Houses of Parliment. Paraskavedekatriaphobia is fear of Friday the thirteenth. Female kangaroos are almost always pregnant and can pause pregnancy: be nursing a joey, have an embryo in the pouch drinking a different type of milk, and be pregnant. I had too much time to play on the Internet when I had eye surgery." He gave her a goofy grin.

She burst out laughing. "I can see that." He flipped the channel past a trivia game show, and she grabbed his arm. "Ooh! Go back! I bet I can beat you."

He clicked back with a grin. "Game on."

The noise level went up within ten minutes.

"An epistolary letter is written in the form of these," the TV host asked.

"Oh! Wha, wha, what is..." She shot up to her knees on the bed and wracked her brain.

"A letter," Jason cut in with a laugh, two seconds before the TV contestants.

She pushed on his arm. "That doesn't count! You have to say 'what is.'" She laughed and leaned over to take a sip of his shake.

"Hey!" He chuckled.

She let go of the straw and smiled. "You shoulda gotten me more ice cream. I ate it all."

"I can see that." He chuckled and took another sip before tilting back to her again. "And I can't beat you when you stutter it every question to stall. You're trying to get me to not interrupt so you can win. Manners don't exist in this game, honey."

She swallowed a sip of milkshake and her jaw dropped. "I am not stalling! Okay, maybe on that one. But-"

He snapped his fingers and pointed at the TV about a question. "Who is William Blake!" Then he looked at her with a smile. "You were saying you're not stalling but maybe on that one," he prompted.

"Cheater! I wasn't listening!" She slapped a hand over his left ear.

With a laugh, he pulled her into his lap. "I can hear low tones of male voices out the other ear." She fell back in his arms and stuck her tongue out at him with a sassy smile.

"Behave or I might have to catch that tongue," he smiled, his voice dropping a hint in intimacy.

"Ptolemy's Model was accepted for over one thousand years, until this Polish thinker came along," the host said.

"Who is Nicolaus Capernicus!" she shouted. When the contestant answered in kind, she flung her arms up in victory and scrambled to her knees. "Whoo! Game point!"

A deep belly laugh filled the air. "Wow, I see I had your full attention there. Alright, this is game point."

"The types of these cards used in digital cameras include microSD..." the host rambled off the question.

"Um, um, um, memory card!" she shouted, slapping his knee through the blanket with each word as she wracked her brain.

He laughed, falling over against her in hysterics.

Her mouth fell open with a smile, and she pushed on his shoulder, barely moving his weight. "You can't let me win!"

"It's just so funny seeing you panic," he wheezed and wiped his eye as he sat upright. "Alright, real game point."

"In preparation for a work published in 1828 that was twenty years in the making, he learned twenty six languages," the host said.

She stared at the TV, having no idea.

"Webster," Jason coughed under his breath.

She looked at him. He simply smiled like nothing had happened. "You can't let me win!" The contestant repeated his answer. She dropped face first onto the bed with a groan.

"It wasn't answered properly with 'Who is.' Doesn't count," he said.

She rolled over onto her back, her head now by his feet. "No, you win. I'm not taking pity points." Then she gave a fake groan of defeat. He set down his shake on the nightstand and grabbed her foot. She squealed and squirmed.

"Stop," he laughed. "I'm not going to tickle." He pulled the sheets over her waist and lifted her foot higher, keeping her decent with the short nightdress.

Her heart skipped a beat. Of course he would think ahead about being a gentleman.

Then his thumbs pressed into the underside arch of her foot, massaging away an ache that hadn't been noticable. He looked down at her toenails. "When did you paint them pink?" A smile spread across his lips.

"This morning." She flushed and wiggled her fingers at him.

He caught her hand and smiled. "Very pretty." Then he sat back and resumed massaging her feet.

Her face burned, pleased that he liked and even noticed it. "I can rub your feet." She tapped his feet under the blanket beside her head.

He made a face. "Women's feet are cute. Men's are like gorilla feet."

She smiled and watched him. He seemed so tranquil and safe. Until a few months ago, she hadn't believed anymore that such a kind man existed.

He cocked his head, a touch of a smile dancing on his lips. "You look far away, sweetheart."

The way he said it with such tenderness made her heart skip a beat. "Just thinking how much I love you." She eased her foot away and crawled over to curl up against him.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He wrapped his arm around her.

"Will you stay in here tonight?" The nightmares would come tonight, but perhaps not with Jason by her side.

His strong arms cocooned her in his warmth and protection, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I'd offer my life if you but asked," he whispered and laced his fingers with hers.

His words of devotion and love brought tears to her eyes. She rested her cheek on his chest as the tears slipped out.

"We're going to get through this, Emma. You're not alone," he whispered and stroked her back. "Never forget that I believe you're beautiful, no matter what he did. Don't be afraid of telling me because you fear what I'll think, because I promise I'll only admire you more for your strength and beauty." He laid his hand over her heart. "I love you, my Emma. I love you."


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, CRB, Sophia, and xxHowellJenkinsxx. Glad to see we picked up a new reader/reviewer! :)**

 **Very good advice, CRB. Thanks. Just curious, are you trying to get/have been published? Seems like advice coming from experience. :)**

 **Yes, it seems to be rare to get more than a couple reviews a chapter for some reason,** **xxHowellJenkinsxx. I just assume it means it's OK because Im not getting bashing reviews. With my Tink stories I'd hit almost 500 reviews a story, but here seems to be lucky to hit 100 (20 for this story were because I asked for reader input about the storyline).**

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She jerked awake in the middle of the night for some reason. Deep breathing filled the darkness. Heat radiated beside her. Her heart shot into her throat. Where was she? Where was Jason? She eased sideways to slip out of bed.

A deep sigh escaped from the person in the bed. A man. He rolled over and wrapped an arm around her, scooting closer to spoon.

She froze. He smelled like Jason, but it couldn't be him. She tried to pull away.

He shifted. "Emma? Where are you going?" Sleep wove through his voice.

A breath of relief came deep from her soul, almost panting with relief. She'd asked Jason to sleep here in the hotel room.

"It's just me. It's alright." He slid her closer against his chest, his movements slow and sleepy. His body started going limp again, but he stirred himself. "Did you have a nightmare?" He shifted, as if trying to stay awake.

"I don't know. I just woke up." She nuzzled against him. "Go to sleep."

His chest arched against her, apparently stretching to try to wake up. "Are you alright?"

Grazing her fingers over his chest hair, she nodded. "I'm alright."

He brushed a kiss over her forehead and held her tight. His arm grew heavier and heavier, the weight of his muscles almost making it hard to breathe. She smiled and snuggled a little closer, the breadth of his shoulders creating a space for her to cuddle without being crushed by his arm. Her hand glided up to his shoulder. It was the first time ever paying attention to the physical differences in their body sizes, laying face to face like this.

Her shoulders almost spanned across his rib cage. Almost. His shoulder sat a fair bit higher. Even tucked under his chin, her feet fell a couple inches short of his. She draped a leg over his and smiled. His cotton pajama bottoms had slid up to his calf, exposing thick muscle and soft leg hair as she trailed her foot up. The hard chest muscles under her hand begged to be stroked. He had a body that every woman fantasized about, but right now it was the incredible physical protection he could offer that warmed her heart,

He gave a lazy groan deep in his throat. "How am I supposed to sleep when you keep touching me?" The poor man sounded exhausted.

"Your body is still asleep," she teased. He must be tired because there was no sign of his body awakening anytime soon.

"Five minutes," he mumbled and then deep breathing filled the room again.

She smiled. Whatever 'five minutes' meant, he obviously wasn't going to be awake for it. She brushed a kiss over his chest and whispered, "Night, Jay."

The morning sun shined behind her eyelids, and she groaned and rolled toward Jason to use his body as a shield so she could sleep longer. Except, he was gone. Opening her eyes, she blinked.

He sat in front of the laptop at the little table in the corner of the room, his look full of intense concentration. When she sat up, he glanced over briefly. "Morning, princess. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, why?" She ran her fingers through her hair while he wasn't looking.

"You slept late - it's almost ten." He frowned at the screen and mumbled something.

"Ten?! Have you been up long?" Standing up, she untwisted her nightgown and padded over in slippers.

"Since six." He seemed distracted.

She rested her chin on his shoulder and looked at the screen. It appeared to be math questions. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

He typed in an answer and clicked the 'Submit' button. Then he closed the laptop and smiled. "Watching you sleep for a couple hours." He tugged her into his lap.

She giggled and smiled up at him. "No, really. What were you doing?"

His arms locked around her. "I called the therapist, and she said you might be onto something." He shook his head like he thought it was all silly. "That was an I.Q. test."

"Oh, really?" She beamed a smile and sat up. "What does it say you got?" When she started to open the computer, he dropped a hand on it. She twisted around with a frown.

He looked at her in all seriousness. "You said you'd take it too. It's a two-hour test."

She frowned. "Jason, there's no need for me to take it. And what's the point when it's going to come back as normal intelligence."

Heaving a deep sigh, he gave her a look. "You don't have to tell me your score. I'll tell you mine after you take it. You're smarter than you think, Emma."

"I can't take a test while you're hovering anyways." She jutted out her chin. Ha, see him wiggle out of that.

He shrugged. "I have to make some calls anyways. I'll be back in a couple hours." He scooped her up and deposited her in the chair. Then he snatched the computer before she could see. When he set it down before her, it was a new test.

She threw him a look.

"As soon as you click 'Start,' the timer starts. Two hours, and the instructions said it's best to guess rather than leave it blank." Then he kissed her head and strode into his room.

A grueling two hours later, she dropped her head on the table with a bang.

"Are you alright?" His voice rang close like he stood in the doorway.

"There's two hours of my life never coming back," she muttered against the table.

He chuckled and strode in. "You probably did better than most people, and I imagine you did better than you expected."

She lifted her head. "Is eighty two good?"

He stopped dead in his tracks, his eye wide. "I think you missed some screens," he said slowly. "Or do you get nervous taking tests? You should be easily above 110."

She snorted and couldn't hold back a laugh. "You're so easy, Jason."

Relief swept over his face, and he rolled his eye, dropping into the chair across from her. "Was it better than you thought?"

She shrugged and opened another window. "I don't even know what the number means." Typing in the search engine, she nibbled her lip and clicked open a page. Huh. Apparently 141 wasn't something to sneeze at for this test. "What'd you get?"

"It's just a number, Em. Many factors can skew it." He sat back and stretched out his legs under the table. "What do you want to do today?"

The man was probably being modest. "Mine was above 130. Was yours?" He'd admit if he knew her bottom score.

His eyebrow rose. "That's quite intelligent, Emma. Below 140?" He gave no indication of his number.

She gave a slow shake.

He blinked. "Wow. That's about the top one percent of the population. I'm impressed, but I can't say I'm surprised." He flashed a smile and folded his hands over his stomach, uncharacteristically slouching in the chair.

But something said she'd be far more impressed with his score. "Tell me your number."

"It's a test, a snapshot in time, Emma. Tomorrow it could be far lower."

She closed out her window, and it asked to save the PDF. She accidentally clicked 'Yes,' and it popped up the location window. There was another test. Probably Jason's. She clicked.

"No, Emma!" He snatched the laptop, but the file had already opened.

She stared at him with huge eyes. "192?!" she whispered in shock.

"It's a stupid test." He shut down the laptop.

"That's, like, almost unheard of genius level. Oh my god!"

His phone rang, and he heaved a sigh when he read the name on the screen. "It's the therapist." He answered. "This is Jason."

She frowned. He usually answered the phone with a bit more enthusiasm. She reached across the table and set a hand on his arm when he glanced and seemed uncomfortable.

He set down the phone after simply listening for about three minutes. "She wants to speak to both of us." He sounded like that was a bad thing and hit the speaker button. "Emma's here."

"Hello, Emma. It's Dr. Menza. I received Jason's test results and would like to talk to both of you, if you have time."

Why did he seem so upset? She walked over and sat in his lap, laying a hand on his cheek. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Is that alright?" she whispered.

He shruggled, half shook his head, and raised his hand, as if not knowing how he felt.

"Emma?"

"I'm here." She ducked her head to catch his eye. He looked at her with such sadness that her heart twisted. "Someone tell me what's going on. He looks so heartbroken." She stroked his cheek, but he guided her hand away and just held it instead, diverting his eyes.

"Do you want to tell her, Jason?" the therapist asked.

"What I want to do is hang up."

She blinked at him in surprise over his rudeness.

"Jason, this isn't a bad thing," the woman said.

"Oh, yes. It's bloody fabulous," he growled.

"Emma," the woman said, "I told him that this makes a difference in everything. I don't know him well enough to have picked up on his intelligence yet, but you did. His PTSD may not actually be that. Perhaps some things are PTSD, but many of his behaviors are tied to incredible intelligence levels."

"Even more of a freak," he muttered for her ears alone and scooted her off his lap to go pace.

"Jason, stop," she said in soft tones and searched his face. Being so intelligent seemed like a good thing, but he acted like this was terrible news. She sat in his chair.

"People of extremely gifted intelligence are prone to having intense emotions. From what you said the other day, it sounds like sometimes the only way to deescalate your arguments is to push him until he breaks before he'll calm down."

He started to head into his own room, but she caught his hand and stood to wrap her arms around him. He tensed and didn't hold her, didn't even look at her.

"No, when he gets upset about himself, that's the only way to bring him down enough before he's ready to have a rationale conversation," she answered and looked up at him. She dropped her voice. "Jason, this is a gift. I know you don't see it as such right now, but it is."

"Jason, you've mentioned that you've always had few very intimate friends and that your relationship with Emma is far more emotionally invested than with your only previous relationship."

She looked at him in surprise. Her heart melted that he shared more of himself with her than anyone else, that he trusted her that much.

"Would you say that your relationship is intense, Emma?"

She studied him for a moment, and he glanced down at her. "I suppose. I don't know, it feels...safe. It's not the rollercoaster of breaking up and fights and things like that."

"But it's a deep emotional connection," the therapist prompted.

"Well, I think most relationships should be that way," she explained. Odd. He seemed to relax more and more based on her answers. His eye held hers, the wheels in his head seeming to turn fast.

"Those with high intelligence tend to form very deep bonds, sometimes causing themselves to become emotionally drained. I think that's what was happening with you, Jason. Have the breaks of time alone helped?"

"Emma isn't a burden." He frowned at the phone, his body tensing again.

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all. What I mean is you have your emotions for her, and then you pick up on hers and become engulfed. It's overwhelming and restrictive unless there is the time alone to decompress. This has nothing to do with loving her or not caring, it's actually the opposite of being a 'super-responder.' We call people like this emotional empaths. Being in a relationship with someone will require you to walk the line between keeping Emma close and shoving her away."

So true. She gave him an encouraging smile. This seemed to fit some of their emotional barrier problems. It explained some of why he became such a recluse after the fire, why he was so empathetic about Gaston and her fear of men. He didn't seem convinced yet that this testing was a good thing.

"You may find that even sleeping in the same bed gets to be overwhelming, so compromise on how many nights a week feels right for both of you. You may need your own office or bedroom to retreat to, even ten minutes twice a day. Some couples even can't be in the same hotel room all week on vacation."

That struck a chord, and he looked quite upset. "It's always going to be like this?" he asked the therapist.

"It might fluxuate. You don't know your limits yet. Maybe just going into a separate room twenty minutes out of the day is good enough, maybe you need separate bedrooms at all times. Doing things you enjoy will help with some of the restlessness you might feel. Keeping intellectually stimulated will be beneficial, whether it's through your patent work or hobbies."

His eye searched hers, his face crestfallen. "And what's in it for Emma to stay?"

"Jason, stop." She frowned and set a hand on his chest. "You're what's in it. I love you, and I love what we have."

"Emma, I'd like you to take the IQ test too - "

"She did. 141," he smiled, as proud as could be. His arms wrapped around her.

She flushed, a bit self-conscious being so far lower than him. But he seemed so proud that it apparently didn't matter to him.

"Good. Having someone with an extreme difference in IQ would not last because a sense of frustration over the difference sets in for both people. And having two people with very high IQs creates a whole other world of issues. When the woman has the higher IQ, it causes problems of distrust and emasculation issues for the male. This is good it worked this way."

That she was the dumb one of the two. She lowered her head to stare at his chest. This was humiliating.

He caught her chin with his finger almost instantly. "Emma, there's nothing to be ashamed about. It's a stupid test. Tomorrow you might test higher and I might test lower. It doesn't mean anything, and it doesn't influence how much I love you," he whispered with such heartfelt tenderness.

"There are a few things you should be aware of, Jason," the therapist added. "Higher intelligence does correlate with depression for a variety of reasons. You have had depression in the past, so it does make you more likely to get it again."

Now her hackles rose and blood pressure shot up as she glared at the phone. "I'd like to see someone with these burns not get depression. You can't take a traumatic instance that would cause depression for anyone and-"

He rubbed her back and offered a slight smile. "Em, I appreciate the protectiveness, but she's just saying there's an increased risk because of certain factors."

She heaved a sigh and shut her mouth with reluctance.

"Of course it would happen to anyone, Emma. It's just a fact that he's more prone because of these things," the woman continued. "Also, there is a correlation between high I.Q. and high sex drive, but high intelligence people seem to be very selective of their sexual partners and have fewer over the course of their lives than the general population."

"You're wasting your breath. I'm done with finding a partner," he cut in.

She flushed and couldn't hold back a shy smile when he cupped her jaw. Then he pulled her against his hard chest and gave an open-mouth kiss. Almost instantly, he slipped his tongue past her lips as much as possible with the mask on. Oh sweet heaven, shivers of desire shot to her lower belly from his electrifying kiss. She grabbed his upper arms to not lose her balance from his dizzying kiss.

When conversation with the therapist ended a bit later, he sat with her on the beach. Storm clouds began to roll closer in the distance, the heat lightning flashing in a symphony with thunder. The impending Storm left the beach deserted and all to themselves.

He linked his arms around her as she sat with her hands on his shoulders. "Thank you, Emma."

"For what?" She brushed her nose against his with a smile.

That drew a soft smile from him. "For putting up with my neuroses. For not accepting PTSD as the diagnosis, which a misdiagnosis might have made things worse down the road."

A soft laugh tickled her throat. "Jay, if you're neurotic, then I am too because you suit me." She beamed a smile, her heart not this light in several days. Linking her arms around his neck, she leaned back in his arms. "I love how we work. Even when we argue, it just works. I want to be with you every minute, but the time you need alone is good for both of us. Plus, it makes me miss you."

A smile touched his lips, along with a tender look. "I miss you too. It's not a question of getting away from you like that-"

"I know." She brushed a kiss over his lips. "This is so good for us to know about this. For one, I can tell everyone my boyfriend is literally a genius." She pecked a kiss over his lips, and he blushed. "For another, it's good for you to know there's not something wrong with you." She held his gaze in all seriousness. "We know how to fix things before you get so overwhelmed again like earlier this week. It was hard watching you struggle because I didn't know what to do. Instinct was to be with you more for support, but I was making it worse." She swallowed hard, the guilt gnawing away.

He cupped her cheek. "Emma, it's not your fault, and we didn't know any better. You cared and were trying instead of running away, which means so much. If nothing else, you've shown me since we met that you are so devoted." He had to pause and clear the thickness from his voice. "I wish you'd been there when I was burned, but I also think that everything leading up to this makes me cherish you more because I know what it's like to not have you."

A tear slipped down her cheek that he brushed away with his thumb. She leaned in to kiss him...and then the rain broke loose.

He grabbed her hand with a smile and pulled her to her feet. She ran hand in hand with him across the beach to the hotel, laughing as they got soaked. He laughed and tugged her hand. "Hurry, Emma! We don't want to be on the beach in a lightning storm."

"I am," she laughed, running as fast as possible to keep up with his long legs. When he turned and scooped her up, she squealed and laughed. "You can't run faster carrying me!"

He flashed a smile and took off. The rain must've loosened the adhesive tape because few yards from the hotel, his mask slipped off and tumbled to the sand. He stopped and lowered her a little. She scooped it up, and then he took off again and shot up the deck steps. He set her to her feet at the patio door, slipping the mask from her hands to hold it to his face for going inside.

"Show off," she giggled.

He flashed her a grin. "It worked, Ms. Giggles." Then he reached for the door.

"Kiss me in the rain." She nibbled her lip. It would be so romantic, but he'd deny it with the mask not on while so close to prying eyes in the hotel.

He turned and looked at her in surprise, almost completely soaked from the rain. Then he looked toward the lightning still a bit far off and rolling in. With a soft smile, he backed her up to the corner along the hotel and away from windows. "Close your eyes."

She did, her heart beating fast. His hands locked around her hips and lifted her onto him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she smiled as he pressed her against the building. Her hips sat right above his, making his arousal brush where she throbbed for him. The butterflies beat faster in her stomach.

His mouth claimed hers with a possessiveness he'd never shown before. "God, Emma," he panted between intense, passionate kisses. "I need to sink into you. I need to feel you around me." He rocked his hips so hard, making fireworks of pleasure burst behind her eyelids and her breasts and sex tingle with the pleasure.

Intense, powerful emotions radiated from him, so intense they almost made it hard to breathe. Her tongue danced with his, her hands roamed the muscles unveiled under his wet shirt. Oh dear god, his passion and heat almost seared her.

Just as fast, he slid her to her feet and leaned his forehead against hers, their chests still heaving. He rested his hands on her hips. "Take yourself upstairs and shower." Huskiness roughened his voice.

"Jason?" Out of habit, she started to open her eyes.

He whipped her around and pressed her against the smooth siding of the hotel with his body, his arousal against her bottom. He held her wrists fast. His body trembled. "Go, Emma," he growled, his voice still rough with passion. "The only thing stopping me from claiming you as mine right now, right here is people would see your nakedness. You test me, Emma, and it's a battle I won't win in a few more minutes."

She frowned in confusion. This wasn't like him to let passion get the best of him, to let that beautiful chivalry of his fall by the wayside. It seemed like he was trying to hide from pain of some sort. "Jason, what's wrong?"

"Please," he begged, his hips pressing against her. "Another few minutes and I won't stop. I won't risk you getting pregnant."

She frowned. That was an odd thing to say. It's not as if he wouldn't propose if a baby did come. It was almost as if he didn't expect to see her again. She slipped away, as he wished and went upstairs, all the while wracking her brain.

Grabbing clothes to go warm up in the shower, she spotted his phone still on the table. She picked it up and set it on his bed, the room quite dark from the curtains still being drawn. The movement jostled it and it lit up with a text message. It was from Frank. She shouldn't look. It might be private. But it might also explain why Jasn seemed so upset. It was from eight this morning when she'd still been asleep.

 _We caught them. Take Emma home today and then meet me at our usual spot. This is when it gets dangerous having to testify. Sever ties with Emma to keep her safe, at least until this blows over the next few months. We're relocating you._

Her heart slammed. Jason's words about not getting pregnant made sense now. He didn't know how long he'd be gone, and he didn't want her having a baby alone. He hadn't been just passionate downstairs, he'd been grieving. And how well the bastard had kept it hidden. He wasn't walking away. She wouldn't let him. The goddamn FBI would rip him away and then probably find more and more reasons to keep him away until she never saw him again. And damn him for being willing to go along with it.

The hall door opened, and he stopped in surprise, still dripping wet. She almost threw the damn phone at him. "What is this?" she demanded and held it up. "You're not dropping me off and then disappearing. They can't rip us apart if you don't let them. They can't if we're married!" Oh god, she wanted to throw something.

He flung the door shut and stormed over, his look fierce. "I told him to jack off if he thinks I'm leaving you," he growled and jecked off his wet shirt and dropped it on the dirty floor.

She watched the shirt drop. He must be distracted to not be worried about the germs. Then her eyes returned to him. "You did?"

He pulled her tank off and dropped it on top of his shirt. "I did," he growled. Then his silhouette moved to pull off his pants.

"You're not being relocated?" It didn't really register when he slid off her skirt.

"No." He shoved her down on the bed and climbed on top.

"You're not taking me back to Kansas?" Her hands held his sides as he settled over her.

"Fuck, no." He clasped her breast through her bra and kissed her neck.

It suddenly hit that they were half naked. "Are you going to make love to me?"

"No."

She frowned.

"I'm going to teach you why you need to listen when I say go away to protect your virtue," he growled. His hand rocked between her legs hard and his finger pressed through her panties to slide inside her the smallest bit, making her gasp and grab his shoulders as he demanded her body to orgasm. His tongue dipped down her bra but didn't touch her nipple, somehow driving her as mad as if he had. He stroked a spot just inside her that sent electric currents shuttering through her body.

She cried out and her breasts tightened. He kissed down her belly. When his lips replaced where he rubbed her nub and he still kept his finger inside through her panties, it was too much. He threw her body into such an intense release that she clung to him for dear life and cried out loud enough for the neighbors to hear. "Jay," she whimpered, scratching his shoulders and shaking so hard. Her heart slammed like mad. He demanded that fireworks explode. She gasped, her chest heaving as he suspended the pleasure until her body finally came down.

Then he pushed himself up, panting as hard as her. His arousal presented itself through his boxers as he got up and grabbed their wet clothes. "Next time listen when I tell you to go."

She rolled onto her side, still basking in the afterglow. "I don't think I want to listen," she smiled.

He dropped the clothes, grabbed her hand, and pulled her up, giving a swat barely hard enough to sting but enough to get his point across. "Go."

She giggled and turned to face him in the dark. "I like being punished, Dr. Port," she purred.

In a heartbeat, he grabbed her arm and swung her down a little to rest over his arm. He swatted her bottom harder but then rubbed to take the sting away. "Go, or I will be forced to bed you." A hint of a smile colored his voice as he uprighted her. She giggled, and he spun her around. "You want sex, don't you?" He sounded exasperated.

She bit her lip with a smile.

He brushed a finger over her lips being the room was too dark to see much. "You won't be giggling when I leave you unsatisfied."

Her mouth fell open and she gasped. "You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?" He spun her around and pulled her against his chest, his arm locking tight around her middle. His arousal pressed hard against her bottom, as his hand slipped around her front between her legs. He rubbed and teased, sending her flying to the brink of pleasure. And just when she trembled and was about to release, he let go and gently pushed her through the connecting doors into her bright room. "I love your ass, Emma," he sighed and gave it a firm squeeze. Then his voice sounded firmer, her mind still working in slow motion from pending pleasure. "Go shower to warm up from the rain. Next time you'll listen." The door shut.

She spun around with wide eyes, but the lock clicked from his side. Her mouth fell open. He'd left her hot and bothered and wanting more. Much more.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, Guest, Singingsilent, YazminXD, and CRB. That makes me both nervous and excited that you're following, CRB! :)**

 **Thanks for joining in reviewing, IloveMilarion1201! I did a lot of research before deciding on Jason's IQ. Many people have scored higher than Einstien and are Mensa club members (a joke naming the therapist Dr. Menza to see if anyone caught that). A few actors in Hollywood have equal or higher IQs than 160 (Einstein). The highest on record is 228, but some people who weren't tested are thought to have even higher IQs. Of course scores vary according to which test is administered. I looked at Mensa member lists, journals and newspaper articles. I believe my sources are reliable, but let me know if you have reliable sources saying otherwise.**

* * *

She got in when he opened the car door a bit later that afternoon to go back home. When he shut the door and walked around to the driver's seat, she leaned her head back and sighed. It would be good to get back to normal life - this 'honeymoon' had been draining, although parts had been fun. She held out a box to him when he got in.

"What's this?" He smiled and took it, turning on the air conditioning in the hot car.

"I found it when I went on a jog that one day. I slipped out today and bought it while you were packing after lunch." She bit her lip. He might not like it.

He gave her a stern look. "Emma, you should tell me you went out. All of this FBI craziness or not, it's just safe to tell someone." Then he opened the box without looking and glanced at her with a frown. "You don't need to spend money on me."

She flushed. The old vendor woman had mislabeled the table and given the sign price when she'd helped the old woman lift some boxes. "I know, but I wanted to." Instead of twenty three dollars and fifty one cents in her account, she now had one dollar and eight cents to her name. But Jason had given so many gifts and she hadn't given him hardly a thing. A few nights of waitressing when she got back home would earn enough to get some groceries and pay the electric and gas bill that would be due by now. Maybe. Her heart lurched at the thought of going home...not to his home.

A look of concern crossed his face, as if sensing her financial distress, but he looked down at the box and laughed. He lifted out the black cell phone case with a smile.

She couldn't help but smile. "It hooks on your belt. There's a shield that is supposed to aim the waves away from the body - the waves thought to cause reproductive cancer."

His chuckle still faded, a grin spread wide on his face and lighting up his eye. "I love it, Emma. Thank you." He leaned over and planted a kiss on her lips.

With a smile, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I told you at my apartment that you should get one."

"Yes, you did," he laughed. When he opened the flap to put his cell inside, he stopped.

 _Call my heart, and I will hear.  
_ _  
I love you,  
_ _Emma_

Her face burned. It had seemed like a good idea to write with permanent marker on the inside to give the case more meaning when she didn't have the money to get it embossed. Now, though, it seemed cheap and corny. "I'll get a nice one-"

"No," he said, his voice soft as he stared at the inside for a moment. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "I want this one, Emma." He brought her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles, still apparently unable to make eye contact. Then he clipped the case onto his left hip and put his cell in it.

When he stared at the steering wheel for a moment, she set her hand on his thigh. "Jason?"

"I said at your apartment that we'd talk about finances." Nothing but concern filled his voice, and he looked at her. He caught her hand when she pulled away in embarrassment. "I don't want to take you back to Kansas. I miss seeing you around the house." So much hope filled his eye.

"But we agreed we wouldn't live together, that it is something for marriage," she said with a frown, although she'd loved the arrangement they had before.

He turned in his seat toward her as much as his large frame allowed and held her hand, his gaze searching her face. "Emma, I have a clinical trial ending in three weeks. We need a medical writer to help us publish the results. Salary would be seventy five dollars an hour-"

She held up a hand. "For one, I've never written anything. Being the sole writer without someone to teach me would get your article rejected in the same day as submission. They would laugh, Jason. For another, that is the salary of an experienced medical writer." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not taking another pity job with a pity salary and getting free pity housing."

His brow furrowed. "That was not my intent. My apologies for coming across that way." He pressed his lips together for a moment and searched her eyes, his face so crestfallen.

It was as if the thought of her going home to Kansas truly bothered him and he wanted any excuse to keep her close. "Jason, Prince is good protection." The salary would be a godsend, but he wouldn't have given her resume a second glance for this job if she hadn't been his girlfriend. The sad look on his face broke her heart. "Jason, thank you, but I want to do this on my own. I don't want a job I didn't earn. I loved working together and being at your house, but I don't want you to dig up jobs left and right so I'm employed-"

"Emma, that's not what I meant-"

She squeezed his hand and searched his eye. "I know, but I need to do this for me."

An understanding but sad smile touched his lips. "I suppose helping you get an apartment that you'd like more is out of the question too. May I come court you on weekends?"

Her heart split open, and she had to fight back tears. Nearly three hours difference existed between them, maybe an hour or two with the chopper. But still, after being together these past two weeks and living at his home, the distance would feel like twenty Grand Canyons. And he wouldn't be near for midnight rescues from real or imaginary monsters. Living apart seemed unbearable, but his offer was just another excuse to live together. But oh, how she wanted to take it. "I'd take it hard if you didn't want to visit," she said, trying to coax a smile out of both of them.

With a nod, he started driving. The man seemed...heartbroken. The drive remained silent for a few minutes. "You're not pushing me away because of what happened yesterday, are you?" His voice overflowed with concern. "When you were so scared?"

She looked out her own window. "No," she said, her heart aching to talk about it. "Not yet, Jason. I can't talk about it yet."

His hand slid into hers in her lap. "We need to talk about it soon, Emma. Before the trial because that's going to bring back nightmares, and it'll be so hard to help you if I don't know what happened. I want to be there for you, and you need someone to help you get through the trial."

"I know," she whispered.

His phone rang. He handed it to her because of the hands-free-while-driving phone laws. She put it on speaker.

"This is Jason." He kept his eye on the road.

"Jason, it's Frank. Are you alone?"

She exchanged a suspicious glance with him. "Emma's here in the car. Why?"

"Pull over. Emma can't hear the details."

He pulled over and took the phone. His look grew more and more solemn until he hung up a few minutes later. He stared at the steering wheel. "The trial date with the terrorists is set." He swallowed hard and looked at her. "I have to leave tomorrow."

She blinked. "For how long? Where?"

With a shake of his head, he looked so upset. "I can't tell you." His voice rang hollow. "It puts you in danger to know."

"But, it's not like, more than a couple weeks, right?"

He looked away.

"A month?" Her heart stilled when he didn't move. "I can't tell you," he whispered, his heart so obviously breaking.

The drive home the next twenty-four hours was solemn.

* * *

She laid in her bed at the apartment a week later. Half past nine. It hurt being away from him, not having him right down the hall at night to talk, not even being able to talk to him at all. Work was slow, several bills were past due, job hunting was nearly impossible to do on a phone without a computer, Prince was still gone with Trudy, and bumps in the night seemed more terrifying than usual. Being wrapped up in Jason's strong arms would be so perfect, such a relief right now. He hadn't been allowed to have a phone or any outside contact during the trial, so Frank served as the link for emergencies. Every other night Frank called because Jason would worry, so it didn't come as a surprise when his number popped up on the phone again.

"Hi, Frank."

"Hi, Emma. He's here and asked me to make sure you're doing alright." A deep voice murmured in the background. "And if you need money or anything."

Tears blurred the green glow of the clock on the nightstand. "No, I'm doing fine," she lied. "Do you know how much longer the trial will be?"

He sighed. "Emma, I said last night that I can't talk about it. These things usually take awhile."

"Is he doing alright?"

"I think being away from you is getting to him more than anything else. I shouldn't even be making these calls. I have to hang up." Jason's voice murmured again. "No, I told you this is it, Jason. Once a week is all I'm doing. Even then I could lose my job," he barked. His voice sounded more patient when he got back on the line. "I'll call in a week. Be careful. We think you're safe, but call me if something suspicious happens. I can have guys there faster than the cops."

"Frank? Is there any way to get my dog back from Trudy yet? It's kinda creepy here at night alone." She nibbled her lip.

"Emma, I don't mean to sound like a jerk, but that's bending more rules. I could lose my job-"

"OK. I'm sorry. There's no need to call again. I'm a big girl." She forced a smile to convince herself as much as anyone that it wasn't scary being so isolated without anyone to check in.

"Call your mom each night just so someone knows you're alright." He sounded apologetic. Jason's tone sounded angry in the background.

"Alright. Thanks, Frank. And tell him that Gaston's trial was pushed back six weeks." She hung up and stared at the ceiling. Telling him that her mom was without cell phone coverage on a trip in Italy with Aunt Lilly to try to get over the grief of losing Dad would only make Jason worry. At least the official notice for Gaston's trial had arrived in the mail and she didn't have to face that without him. He'd take it really hard not being with her for it too and probably skip his own trial or do something stupid.

At the grocery store another week later, she grabbed milk, bread, and peanut butter to get through the next few days after paying the water and cell phone bill with the tips from the past few nights. Her stomach twisted with homesickness for him while getting the bread and peanut butter. Sandwiches. Sandwiches brought back memories of their trip to Florida when they stopped and got sandwiches for lunch - the first time she'd shown him he could still use a straw and his face had lit up like a child on Christmas. She brushed away the mistiness in her eyes, shoving down the heartache, and headed for the checkout line.

Near the checkout, a single white rose sat all alone in the black flower bins. Tears stung her eyes. Everything was a reminder of Jason. The intense throbbing ache never left her heart because of not knowing how much longer until he would come back or if he was alright. It almost hurt as deeply as grief. THe poor man had to relive the nightmares of getting burned and his life falling apart all over again and all on his own again for the trial. Her nightmares lately about his accident were horrific enough without adding in the pain he must've felt. What she wouldn't give to be there for him, to remind him that she'd love him forever, burns and all.

Her lip quivered as she stroked the silky petals of the rose. It was as if it was waiting for her, a sign that everything was going to be alright. Pulling out the cell, she took a picture of it and sent it to Frank's phone without any words attached. Maybe he'd show Jason, or maybe he'd have to just delete it. A warm tear slid down her cheek. The fragrance of the rose brought back memories of dancing with Jason in his greenhouse on that magical night. She looked at the few dollars left in her purse and returned the peanut butter to the shelf to buy the rose instead. Her heart needed the rose more than her stomach needed peanut butter. She walked home with the small bag of groceries and cradled the rose in her hand.

When she got home, someone knocked on the door. She looked out the peep hole. A mailman stood on the other side of the door. She opened the door.

"Emma Hoplin?"

"Yes."

He handed her an electronic clipboard. "Sign here for a certified letter."

Who would send her a certified letter? She took the fat letter he handed over and shut the door. Jason's elegant handwriting addressed the front of the envelope, leaving the return address blank. Her heart beat faster with excitement. Had he slipped through a long letter? She ripped it open, this moment the happiest she'd been since finding out he was leaving for the trial two weeks ago.

Dozens of fifty and hundred dollar bills fluttered to the floor. She stared in shock and then fell to her knees and searched for a note. There wasn't one, but somehow he'd known money was scarce in her bank account. A watery laugh escaped. He'd probably had the FBI check the balance of her account sitting at a pathetic fourty eight cents the past week. Even though he wasn't here, he was here for her. The tears broke free as she wept, so homesick for him it literally hurt her heart. She counted the money. Two thousand dollars.

* * *

Two weeks later, she laid in bed at quarter to ten. Life felt so empty without Jason. He could've been murdered by the terrorists he testified against, and she wouldn't even know until Frank called. When Frank's number lit up her cell, she snatched it off the nightstand. "Frank, is he alright?"

"He is," a deep voice answered, tinted with a smile.

Her stomach flipped. "Jason?" Her heart nearly burst hearing that voice again. A wide smile made her cheeks ache.

"Hello, sweetheart. I don't have my phone back yet. The trial finished an hour ago. The evidence was overwhelming, so the lawyers settled on a deal. Even with appeals, these men won't be getting out until they're ninety."

"Are you going home?" Oh, please say 'yes.'

"Not quite."

Her heart plummeted.

"It'll be about one o'clock, but would it be too ungentlemanly to ask to sleep on your sofa? I miss you, and waiting until tomorrow seems unbearable." The smile leaked through in his tone.

"Yes!" she giggled. The butterflies took off like crazy.

He remained silent for a moment. "May I come tomorrow?" He seemed disappointed.

"No! Come tonight!" The grin kept getting wider until her face threatened to split. "Oh, I answered that backwards, didn't I? Get over here, Jason!"

His deep laugh warmed her heart. "Alright, I'm coming. Sleep. Don't stay up in case my flight gets delayed. I'll just let you know when I arrive rather than texting about delays in case you're asleep."

"You got a flight at the last minute?"

"Honey, if you pay enough, you can get anything last minute. I'll see you in a bit. I love you."

"I love you. Be careful."

"I will. Go to sleep. Oh, Em? I'll be wearing the ski mask, so don't get scared when I knock."

She frowned. "Oh, okay."

"I've been wearing the other one since Florida, and the constant adhesive tape contact left the scar tissue quite raw. I have to go. I'll see you in a bit. I love you."

"Love you. Bye." She hung up and then flew around the apartment cleaning what was already mostly a clean place.

When she wiped the counter and lifted up the white rose in a vase she'd put it in as a dried flower decoration, tears welled. The hard emotions from the past month bubbled up all at once, and she wept. Home. Her Jay was coming home.


	24. Chapter 24

A soft knock on the door echoed at quarter to three. She peeked out, the hall too dark to see anything.

"It's me, Emma."

She almost squealed with excitement. Her heart shot to her throat. This moment had taken forever to come. Giddy, excited, happy, drunk on love...no words existed for how wonderful this moment felt. Whipping open the door, she beamed a smile and darted to him.

He held out a hand to stop her, and she slammed to a halt. "I was in a really dirty cab. I wouldn't be surprised if it served as a sexual service area. Let me shower and then scrub down your tub. Then I want the biggest hug in existence." A longing smile lit up his face.

He pulled out nightclothes, bagged them to check for bed bugs in the bathroom, and bagged his suitcase before bringing it in 'just in case of bed bugs' until he had daylight to check it. Then he went straight for the shower. She danced on her toes waiting for him. She should be grateful for having such a clean man, but he'd better hurry up or he'd get jumped in there.

The moment he stepped out in pajama bottoms, towel drying his hair and keeping his burns covered, she flung herself in his arms.

The towel fell to the floor, and he caught her with a laugh, stumbling back a step. "Ah, Emma, I missed you." His arms engulfed her in a strong hug.

She held on tight, resting her cheek on his warm, damp chest. "I missed you, Jay." She bit her lips, holding onto the tears that sprang to life at his touch. It was miserable being so far away. It didn't feel like home here, not like how it felt like home at his place where the memories existed. Her heart beat faster with homesickness.

"Tell me what you've been doing this past month." He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head and inhaled deep. "Mmm, I missed your scent, Em," he sighed in bliss.

"Is everything alright from the trial?"

"Everything is fine. Ms. Van Hoodie and Stevens will be back at the house with Prince tomorrow. I'm released from witness protection as much as I can be, which doesn't really affect anything in day-to-day life. Tell me what's new with you." He started to let go, but she held on tight. "Em?"

Her lip quivered. The tears welled and overflowed, her stomach flailing like a beached fish from homesickness. "I hate it here," she sniffled. He stilled and that wonderful safehaven embrace encircled her again.

"You don't have to stay here, sweetheart. Come, tell me what happened." He slipped into the bathroom and put on the ski mask while she sat on the sofa made up as his bed already.

As soon as he sat and slipped an arm around her, she burst into tears and curled up against him. "I hate waitressing at the bar-"

"Wait, it's a _bar_? I missed that part before. No, absolutely not. You're quitting tomorrow. With your history especially, you are not working around drunk men. Emma..." He heaved a deep sigh, as if trying to calm down. "What else is going on, sweetheart?" He disengaged, slipped into the doorway of the bathroom, and returned with some tissues before curling up with her again.

She rested her head on his shoulder and curled up her legs toward his lap. "I hate this apartment and this town, and I haven't gotten hardly any tips, and I can't search for jobs on my stupid phone, and the library website doesn't let me on some of the job sites because of pop up ads, and I've had to live mainly on the money you sent, and I hate not having a car, and it's so scary not having Prince here at night, and I wanna come home," she rushed out as the flood gates opened. "And I can't stop crying from PMS," she wailed and climbed into his lap.

He held open his arms, seeming confused what she was doing and what he'd just walked into. When she settled, he held her tight. "Emma, it's alright. Shhh, of course you can come home." He rubbed her back as her shoulders shook. "Why didn't you tell Frank things were bad? I would've at least found a way to send you more money, sweetheart."

"He, he s, said..." she hiccupped.

"Deep breaths, love. It's alright. Don't be worried about anything." He rubbed her back as the meltdown subsided.

"He said I wouldn't be able to do anything on my own; I'd be reliant on a man for everything. And Gaston was right," she blubbered, the tears starting up again.

"Emma, Emma," he cooed. "He's not right, and I think you're emotional and exhausted. Let's get some sleep and then talk about it in the morning. Don't be worried about anything." He held her shoulders and forced her to sit back and look him in the eye. "We'll figure things out in the morning and do whatever you want, sweetheart. You aren't reliant on a man for anything, you've just had a string of bad luck. You had your own apartment and worked at a legal firm doing their lawsuit finances for heaven's sake. I hired you to do Charlotte's Hope because of your resume, and you did an amazing job. The FBI was impressed too." He scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom.

When he laid her down and tucked her in, she looked up at him with big eyes. She caught his hand when he brushed away her lingering tears. How had it only been a month and she missed him this much? Without a word, he turned off the light and laid down with her. She turned onto her side, and he curled up against her with his arm wrapped around.

His hand slipped into hers. "I love you, Emma," he whispered in her ear. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. I won't leave."

She woke up to an empty bed, her heart a thousand pounds lighter. The delicious aroma of eggs and pancakes filled the air. The sizzle of bacon mingled with a deep voice singing to the radio in the kitchen.

She grabbed her light pink fleece robe and shuffled out, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and running a hand through her tangled locks. There'd be no chance of slipping into the bathroom undetected, so it was best to face him with grace, even with bed hair.

He still wore only blue pajama bottoms and the ski mask as he cooked bacon in a skillet on the stove. The counter was set for two with steaming plates of scrambled eggs and pancakes. He danced in place to nineties music, looking like a complete dork. And completely sexy and adorable.

"Hey, babe." He spun around and pecked a kiss on her lips, the spatula still in his hand. "Grab the milk." He gave a soft squeeze to her bottom. "Ugh, I missed your curves," he groaned and then pulled a dance spin around to the skillet to flip the bacon.

She blinked. "What in the world has gotten into you?" She laughed and opened the fridge to find milk there.

"I slept five hours, but it's the best sleep I've had in weeks." He pulled a smooth moonwalk while carrying the skillet and spatula and deposited the bacon on an empty plate on the counter. "As a cardiologist, I say never eat this crap." He popped one in his mouth and set the pan and spatula in the sink, the piece of bacon magically disappearing into his mouth. "As a man, I say feed me this every morning."

She laughed and got out two cups. "Did you go to the grocery store?"

"Nope, I'm just such an awesome boyfriend that I can make it appear." He grinned.

She laughed and gave his tight bottom a light swat. Her mouth dropped. "Oh my god, you're like, muscle everywhere."

He gave a naughty smile and pressed her back against the counter. "Not everywhere," he rumbled deep in his chest. His arousal pressed hard and unyielding against her belly. His hand cupped one side of her neck, and his head tilted to kiss the other.

Her eyes rolled back, and she melted against his burning hot body. The throbbing between her legs made her lower belly tingle with desire. Her eyes rolled back, and she gripped the lip of the counter to keep from dipping into his pants and stroking the source of the amazing magic he held over her. "Jay, we shouldn't," she sighed, her voice breathless.

"I know. But, god, I want to, Emma," he panted, his voice so husky that shivers ran up her spine. "You look so hot in the morning with your hair tangled and no makeup." His fingers slipped inside the robe and sank into her hips.

A flush of embarrassment crept up her neck. Comfort food eating had taken over the past couple weeks, and two or three pounds had crept onto her hips just enough to make her jeans almost too tight.

"Oh god, you're softer," he moaned in agony and pulled her closer, his breathing rough and fast. His lips massaged over the pulse in her throat. "You can't do this to me, Emma." His hands roamed over her hips and bottom through the nightgown.

She had to fight a smile. Apparently he liked it. With an innocent smile, she let the back of her hand brush against his arousal as she slid her hands up to his shoulders.

He gasped and shuddered, his hands biting into her hips in a firm grip and his face burying against her neck. He seemed to be at war with himself. When she nibbled his ear, he stepped back. "Not until we talk about him." His eye was still dilated with pleasure, but his voice rang firm.

That killed all desire. She dropped her hands and slipped away to the other side of the counter.

"Emma," he sighed in frustration and leaned his hands on edge of the counter. "I'm not going to force you to tell me what happened, but I do have a right to know what things make you nervous."

His muscles stood out quite well in that pose, to her chagrin. "You're a little hard to take seriously without a shirt." She cracked a smile and swiped a strip of bacon to chew.

The man's eye narrowed in a heartbeat, and his mouth pressed into a thin line. "You're not going to talk about this or the things from last night, are you?"

Swallowing hard, she dropped her gaze to the bacon. Keep it nonchalant and he'd let it go. She didn't need his help or anyone else's. "I was overtired," she replied, her tone crisp.

"I'm goddamn tired of being shut out," he growled. "You dig and scrape in my wounds to get them to heal, but when I dab at yours, you slam the door in my face."

She kept her eyes downcast. It was easier to keep aloof without making eye contact.

"I deserve a chance, Emma." He pointed at the counter. "I've gotten below the surface and now you're panicking because the only way left for me to go is deeper, and deeper hurts." His voice filled with anger.

She ground her teeth, anger the only way to keep the pain at bay. Her heart slammed with rage.

"I sure as hell am not going to become your 'weekend boyfriend' while you shut me out during the week," he ground out through clenched teeth. "You're using physical intimacy more and more to distract from real conversation that we need to have. Like it or not, Emma, you have to tell a man some day. Any man worth his salt is going to want to know before you marry him, if not to understand what you went through then to understand what not to do in bed."

Her eyes snapped to him. "And you think you're him?" she hissed. Then she blinked with wide eyes. Oh dear heaven, that was as good as slapping him.

Pain flashed through his eye. He started scrubbing the pan in the sink without a word.

"Jason, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," she pleaded.

"I dont know how to get you to open up to me. You should want to, not kick and scream." His voice rang quiet with hurt. Then he turned off the water and his hands stilled as he stared at the sink. "Did I do that much damage when you ran away? You used to share everything with me like you did last night." His eye rose to meet hers with such grief.

She shook her head and stepped around the counter. When he washed and dried his hands and turned to face her, she stepped up to him. The fact that he didn't hold her portrayed his hurt.

"The trial is in three weeks. I'm not going with you, am I?" Pain not just for himself but for her pulsed from him.

She searched his sorrowful eye. "There's never going to be a time when it feels right, is there?" she whispered.

"I don't know, Emma. But it should feel safe." He leaned back against the counter and ran a hand down her arm.

Disappearing into the bedroom, she retuned with a portable CD player and headphones and handed it to him. His eye filled with confusion as he took it. "I had to listen to it over and over to 'desensitize' for the last trial when it was played in court." Her voice rang too small and timid. She hated it - what this little CD could do to her.

He looked at her with wide eyes of shock. "This is the 911 tape? No." He set it on the counter and then took her hands. "If you can't talk about it, you aren't going to want me to hear what happened."

Tears welled in her eyes as she searched his. "I'm never going to talk about it if I have to explain."

"Are you certain? We can't undo this, Emma." He looked so worried.

It was his deep concern that pushed her over the edge, to be willing to take the jump. She nodded and slipped away into the bedroom to pace while he listened. He wouldn't desire her after hearing the tape. She'd screamed the greatest terror in her life and cried so unbelievably hard in the tape. But she hadn't begged. Gaston had fun narrating what he'd do next on the tape, feeding on the terror.

A couple minutes later, she peeked out to see how revolted he looked. He sat in the rocking chair, his mask removed and left side facing her. His elbows rested on his knees and his hands folded together to prop against his forehead. He sniffled. Then he shot up and started pacing. He must've reached where it started getting ugly. She sat on the bed and waited. Waited for the moment he'd be so disgusted he'd leave and maybe not come back.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door shut. She walked down the hall and raised a hand to knock. Intense retching echoed from within. Maybe she should go in and help him calm down, but he probably wouldn't want her touch anymore. The door opened moments later while she still stood there. He didn't wear the mask, but it didn't even register - her eyes flew to his eye, scared of how he'd look at her now. Facing him now, knowing he knew all the degrading things that had happened, she wanted to shrivel up in shame, to slam the door and lock him out before he would. He'd never touch her the same, if he ever did again. He'd see the damage, the defiled body now.

His eye was red from weeping, and his face crumpled again. He surged forward and grabbed her, gathering her in his arms as fast as he could. Then he burst into tears, holding her as tight as possible. His body shook so hard from being upset that he shouldn't have been able to stand. He'd never looked so unglued, so completely devastated in the time she'd known him. It was like watching pain and grief and anger eat him alive. His hand cupped the back of her head to hold against his shoulder.

"I...lov..." His chest heaved trying to get out the words.

"I love you too," she whispered, too shocked to really comprehend it.

For the first time in her life with him, he broke down in sobs. Although his pain broke her heart, it healed it a little too. Only a man so completely devoted, so incredibly in love would react so strongly and profess love even after all the vile things he'd just heard Gaston do. Maybe he'd never want to be intimate again, but he still loved her.

"You're...beautiful," he wept.

She burst into tears. The relief of letting go of this fear she'd carried for so many years...it was finally gone. He didn't see her any differently or desire her any less. His love somehow tenfolded and became so palpable. This man somehow loved her even more.


	25. Chapter 25

She pushed away her nearly full plate of breakfast, no longer hungry, and turned to face him. His eye almost burned into her, his concern so intense. The poor man's entire body seemed tense, and his plate sat full of food too. He seemed to be trying his best to respect her wishes to not talk about it. "Spit it out," she sighed.

He grabbed her hands in her lap and the words came pouring out. "If you don't want to talk about it yet, we don't have to. But we do need to talk about what makes you feel safe and what makes you scared." His eye grew misty. "I didn't understand how violent it was. I don't want you to ever be scared of me like that." Even with the mask, the concern on his face almost ate through her heart. "Do..." He seemed to almost choke on the words. "Do you have physical problems from him?"

She got up and walked her plate around the counter and started wrapping everything up to put in the fridge. Her heart pounded. It was humiliating, embarrassing...and so degrading that she might not be able to fit a husband from the scarring. The c-section part wasn't so bad, although the thought of major surgery to have a baby was terrifying. But a man honestly wouldn't mind that part. It was the other part that a man wouldn't like.

He came around with his plate and set it on the counter. Then his arms slipped around her from behind. "It's alright, Emma."

She held his arms tight. He wouldn't be disgusted, he'd be worried. So she took a deep breath. "With the scarring, the doctors don't know if I'd need surgery to..." her face burned with humiliation, "fit my husband. They said it depends on the size him and other things, to try first and see." She paused. It would sink in after the shock. A man couldn't possibly find her as sexually appealing knowing that - it was unnatural.

His arms tightened around her. "That's why you've half wanted me to bed you now, isn't it? Because I wouldn't know and tear you now, so you'd have time to heal before marriage and I'd never know." His voice overflowed with hurt and concern. "Do you think I would hurt you like that?"

She stared down at the counter. "You wouldn't take me without me being aroused, so I thought it'd lessen the pain and tearing so it'd be bearable."

He heaved a deep sigh. "And you'd be in pain and not tell me while I'd keep going at it trying to pleasure you." Even his grip around her portrayed his distress. "Why do you set me up to be a monster, Emma?"

She spun around with wide eyes. "What?"

His hands rested on her hips inside the robe, and he held her eyes. "Do you think you could tolerate, much less not panic, having a man on top of you and causing pain? That it wouldn't trigger memories and cause trauma?" He laid a hand on his chest. "That you wouldn't see me as a monster?" The thought of it seemed to kill him. Grief and horror and despair etched every line of his face.

She stared. He was right.

"Emma, you do not have to bear everything alone. Why don't you want to share these things with me so I can help you? It doesn't mean you're reliant on a man, sweetheart. And you shouldn't ever be ashamed to tell me anything." He bent his head to catch her eye when she started to look away.

Swallowing her pride, she finished with, "I might also need c-sections to have babies, but they won't know until I'm actually pregnant and the hormones losen everything up."

With a kiss to her neck, he held her closer. "There are ways to gradually stretch the skin that aren't painful. Women have sworn by them for years for childbirth, and they might work for making love too." A long pause filled the air. "If you wouldn't want to try it and don't want surgery, I'd be just as happy, Emma," he said, his voice quiet, gentle, and intimate.

"You would?" She looked up with a frown. What man would be happy being married and remaining a virgin...forever?

Such love poured out of him. "Sex is a perk to marriage, not the reason." A smile tugged at his lips. "Besides, I don't doubt we could still satisfy each other."

Setting her hands on his warm chest, she nibbled her lip. "What about having kids?"

He studied her face for a moment, as if lost in thought. "If you would still want to even with needing a c-section, there's artificial insemination. But I have faith that my soldiers could find their way on their own. Plenty of women have gotten pregnant without actually having sex." A soft smile touched his lips when she blushed. "If you have a c-section, I'll take care of you in everything possible so you don't hurt. I don't want you afraid of having babies, sweetheart."

That was it. He seemed more concerned about her needing surgery than the idea of possibly never having sex. What an odd, utterly wonderful man. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You want babies?"

"I've always wanted babies, I just don't know if it's good to have me as a father." He sighed and rubbed the tension out of her back. Then he pulled back to meet her eyes, as if a bit nervous of the response.

"You would raise some amazing children, Jay." She stroked his cheek.

A small smile upturned his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We need to talk about the big white elephants in the room - your apartment and the boundaries when we kiss."

She pulled out of his arms and turned to the dishes.

He leaned his hands on each side on the counter, his chest pressed against her back, and his hot breath in her ear. "Don't push me out, Em. I thought you were opening up to me." His voice vibrated low and deep. "Let me be here for you. It doesn't mean you're weak. It just means we love each other enough to share our hardships."

Swallowing hard, she didn't move. Her heart thudded against its cage, trying to break free from her chest. It did mean she was weak and reliant on a man. "Don't twist words to coherse me." Her voice flowed quiet and calm, unable to be too angry when he only meant to help.

Silence. His regret and frustration and sadness emanated, and he started to pull away.

It was too hard to just spill it all, but it suddenly seemed so lonely with him giving up for now. If he gave up, the darkness would swallow her up. "This," she said softly but didn't move. He stopped, only his fingers instead of his hands still on the counter - perhaps he sensed how close she sat to the edge of bolting away. "It feels safe when you're behind me like this, like you're being protective. Like when I almost saw your face and you spun me around against the wall - even though you were angry it still felt safe."

His hands leaned back down on the counter, his cheek against her hair, and his lips near her ear. "You should always feel safe. No matter how angry I am, I would never hurt you. You've seen the times my temper has been at its worse."

She gave a light tug to his arm, and he stepped closer so he pressed against her. Her belly pressed against the counter.

"Dominance makes you feel safer, doesn't it? That's why you like me to be aggressive in the bedroom?" He seemed perplexed when she nodded. "Why doesn't it make you nervous? Why don't you want the control?"

"Because you could hurt me, but instead you're even more gentle. You're so much more in tune with me - watching for fear and being protective when you're being aggressive. I always expected to be terrified of not being in control, but it's like your heart is talking to me. When I'm in control, that connection is gone. It's fine for sometimes, but it doesn't feel as safe." She shook her head, her heart still pounding. "I don't know how to explain it."

"In a million years I would'nt have guessed this. I thought you wanted to test me to see if I would ever hurt you, if I would ever lose control."

She shook her head. "I don't know what will trigger a panic attack because you do things that make me feel safe that I expected to frighten me. You've touched my thighs before, and it didn't scare me until we were in Florida." She swallowed hard. "I don't know what's wrong with me that everything is backwards." Her voice cracked.

His arms wrapped around her. "There's nothing wrong with you, Emma. Everyone reacts to things differently; there is no way you're supposed to react. It's uncharted water that we will navigate together. One thing I want you to remember is you never have to 'finish what was started' in regards to having sex. There should never be guilt or pressure to keep going if you don't want to. I expect that even twenty years down the road, but especially in the beginning, something will trigger a feeling or a memory and you'll want to stop. You should never be worried about telling me, Emma. And I should never make you feel guilty for it. If I do, you walk out the door and don't look back."

She snoted at his melodrama.

"No, I'm serious, Emma. It's abusive." His voice rang firm.

The smile died on her lips. He was dead serious. Shame crept into her voice. "Don't you get tired of having to be so careful, so mindful of handling me with kid gloves?"

His soft chuckle filled the air, the smile apparent in his voice. "I think, Emma, that you just don't know what respect from a man should be. You're too self-sufficient for kid gloves. If I used them, you'd get irritated and smack me with them."

The tension eased from her shoulders.

"Speaking of self-sufficient, what do you say if we pack up your things and find you a job in Colorado?" He nibbled her neck. The dear man always knew when it was time to lighten the tension.

She giggled at the ticklish kisses and pressed her shoulder to her ear. "Miss me bad, huh?" She wiggled her bottom against him a little, needing lighthearted distraction to chase away the dark clouds that had been brewing.

He seemed happy to go along with the banter. "So damn bad," he growled and his hand stroked over her belly and around her hips. He moaned in pleasure. "Emma, you have no idea how many times I dreamed about you." His arousal pressed against her bottom.

"Did you?" She bit her lip. She could...no, she shouldn't. But she would. She leaned her hands down on the counter and leaned forward a bit, sticking out her bottom. "Like this?" A naughty smile danced on her lips.

"Oh Jesus," he gasped and grabbed her hips, thrusting hard against her. "Emma," he choked and grabbed her bottom with his right hand.

She bit her lip to hold back the smile. The dear man was far too easy to throw into a passion frenzy. She pressed back with some effort to get his weight to move. He took a step back, panting so hard. Then she turned and trailed a finger over his pajamas, along his arousal.

He gasped and fell forward, catching his weight with his hands on the counter, pinning her. "Emma, I'm so close. Don't push me," he panted and caught her wrists. The poor man visibly struggled to calm down. "Apartment renewal?" He seemed desperate to change the topic.

Holding back a smile over the fact that he couldn't even speak full sentences, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. His dilated eye immediately followed. Who would've thought she could have this much power over a man twice her size and probably thrice her strength? She brought his hands up to her chest. "Rub my breasts, Jay. They ache from PMS."

His eye rolled back at the request, and he complied instantly as he sprinkled kisses on her neck. "Oh, sweetheart, you're a bit swollen," he cooed in concern. His fingers applied different levels of pressure, reaching even where it ached deep inside.

She sighed with relief and held onto the lip of the counter as her eyes fluttered shut. "Jay, they've been so sore this month. You'll have a monthly job if you keep this up," she sighed.

"I accept. You shouldn't have to hurt, Emma." His hands stilled and the pressure changed from massaging to palpating.

She opened her eyes and cocked an eyebrow. He looked down at her covered breast and frowned. "What are you doing?"

"It feels like a lump." The sweet man looked so worried. "Right here." He pressed her fingers over it.

Suppressing a smile, she hooked a finger under his chin to raise his eyes. "It's a cyst that comes and goes with my cycle. It's been checked, and it's fine. You can stop with the breast exam."

Relief swept over his face, and he continued the massage. "Sometimes it's the husband who finds the breast cancer, just like sometimes the wife finds the testicular cancer. There's no harm in me being familiar with your breasts." Then he brushed a kiss over her lips.

She flushed, endeared by his concern but at the same time embarrassed. When she eased his hands away, he took it in good grace and leaned his hands on the counter on each side of her.

"How long is your apartment lease? What's the fee for breaking it? You're moving out today."

She raised her chin in defiance. "My lease renewal is every two months, and I just renewed it last week. And don't get any wise ideas that you'd pay the fee." If he thought she'd be able to pick up and move today, he was sorely mistaken. There was the money to consider for paying for two apartments at once, the notice, movers, having half of this old crappy furniture hauled to the dump...

He picked up his cell off the counter and hit a button. "Five minutes." Then he set the phone down.

She blinked. "For what?" The beeping of a truck echoed in the street. She darted over to the window. A white moving truck backed up to the front of the building and three men hopped out. Her mouth fell open. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Jason had been in isolation for the trial - he wouldn't have had time to arrange for a move today. Pete pulled up in the car, and Trudy got out, barking orders at everyone. Apparently Trudy would supervise the packing.

It was sweet that he'd gone to such lengths to get her out of a town she hated but also high handed to not consult her. She spun around to him with a scowl. "You're presumptuous. Just where do you think I'm going to be living tonight?"

He stalked over, his arousal still very much apparent. "With me," he stated, his voice husky. Then he pulled her against his unyielding chest.

"And arrogant too." Her heart quickened. There was no need for him to know that his hint of arrogance made her knees grow weak.

"You're miserable here in this hole-in-the-wall town without any decent jobs." Then his lips hovered, and his breath caressed over her lips. That beautiful blue eye fell to her mouth. Her heart pounded with anticipation. The sexual tension crackled in the air. "You'll live with me for a few days until you find a place in Colorado. Near me."

"Oh, I will, will I? Who says I want to be that close to you?" She met his eye in challenge.

His hands leaned on the wall on each side of her head. "You want a marriage proposal as much as I want to give one."

Oh god, the butterflies flapped madly in her stomach, making her nauseous and giddy in a wonderful way. "So then do it," she challenged. Dear heaven, her voice rang far calmer than she felt. Within a year she'd be Mrs. Jason Port. Maybe even by Christmas.

The corner of his mouth curled up, slightly cocky - as cocky as this sweet man could be. "Patience is a virtue, Emma." His deep voice practically vibrated in her chest at the lack of space between their bodies. "You wanted to prove your self-sufficiency, which will be good for you. Plus, we've known each other _almost_ six months. I believe I mentioned a ring coming at a year the soonest." He appeared to be enjoying this.

He was goading! Oooh, the desire to stomp a foot surged up. "Good." She turned her nose up at him. "I'd turn you down right now anyways."

A deep belly laugh escaped him, as if he saw through the lie. He swung her over his shoulder and headed for the bedroom.

"Set me down!" she huffed.

"Get dressed." He set her to her feet in the room.

She straightened her robe and nightgown in indignation. Before she could open her mouth, he smiled and shut the bedroom door. Fine. If he wanted to play rescuing the damsel in distress, he'd get a damsel but not one in distress.

She walked down the hall a few minutes later with her hair in a French twist, leaving the length of her neck bare. Two-inch silver hoops dangled from her ears. A soft orange business-style tank top tucked into the waistband of a skirt with orange hibiscus flowers on a white background - a short, tight skirt. White, three-inch heels gave the illusion of longer legs. He was a leg man, and he could suffer sitting beside her the entire drive to Colorado in return for his ambush. Not that she minded the rescue, but he didn't need to know that either.

He wore his classic black suit and white dress shirt. The ski mask had been traded for the plastic one. His gaze remained transfixed on the activity below, with his hands in his pockets. Her heart skipped a beat. Something had changed in him this past month. That quiet confidence and elegance had returned. Although the time apart had been hard for him too, it seemed to have helped heal some of the wounds that had split open on their trip to Florida. The calm, powerful Dr. Port had returned. And he threatened to leave her needing him as much as he seemed to need her.

His head turned, as if sensing her presence. His eye caressed up her calves and thighs, along her hips and waist, and over her breasts and neck to her eyes. Desire flared in his eye, but he didn't otherwise move.

She sauntered over to the door to get her purse. "If I have your permission, Dr. Port, I'll go down and talk to Trudy." She turned to him with a haughty look.

Without a word, he walked over and opened the door for her. "Of course, Ms. Hoplin." A hint of a twinkle glinted in his eye.

She stepped out and walked over to the stairs at the end of the hall. Footsteps didn't follow, so she glanced over her shoulder. He remained at the door, his gaze on her bottom and bare legs. Good - he looked more tortured than she had planned. When she cocked an eyebrow, his legs ate up the distance.

"My apologies." He offered his arm, and she took it. He seemed cool and composed, the only giveaway of his desire being his dilated eye. Then he led her down the stairs, his gaze forward. "You selected your clothes for torture wisely - the skirt and heels do well to accent your long legs and beautiful backside." His voice vibrated deep and intimate, shooting a bolt of electricity up her spine.

Damn him for seeing through her payback plan. She offered her profile as she decended with him. "You think highly of yourself to think I select my clothes for your satisfaction."

He opened the front door for her and pulled his arm away so she could fit through. His hand, however, slipped onto the small of her back as she passed. He whispered in her ear, "I love it when you're sassy. But may I point out a fatal flaw in your plan, Ms. Hoplin?"

She stopped in the doorway and looked at him with an aloof tilt of her eyebrow.

The blueness of his eye burned bright with lust. "You'll be trapped in the backseat of a car with me less than ten feet away. For three hours. With a divider and tinted windows offering abundant privacy for a beautiful woman to be ravished."

Desire burned between her thighs. She tilted her chin up. "You forget, Dr. Port - I know that if there's anything certain about you, it's that you honor your word." He wouldn't win this battle of wits.

A smile filled with dark pleasures tilted up the corner of his mouth, sending a thrill through her. "True. But I promised to not bed you before marriage. There are many ways to ravish you without having intercourse, Ms. Hoplin." His voice laced with husky desire. "And I fully intend to show you."


	26. Chapter 26

A couple hours later and a half hour into the drive, the silence dragged on and her heart beat fast. He sat on the other side of the car, with his elbow propped on the door and his first two fingers leaning against the cheek of his mask - watching her.

She looked out her window, determined not to reveal that his gaze burned as hot as if caressing his hand up her naked body. This must be how prey felt when about to be eaten by a lion. This lion promised to devour her - a long and pleasurable devouring. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in her body. If he didn't get on with it soon, a simple kiss might be enough to set off the fireworks.

"You look like you expect to be a sacrificial lamb." His voice held a huskiness.

"Perhaps because you're making me feel like one by staring." She kept her gaze on the flat fields of Kansas, every inch of her humming. Even her breasts ached for another glorious massage.

"Perhaps I enjoy looking at beautiful things."

A flush crept up her face. The words made her heart skip a beat. It was a bold, romantic thing to say, and he probably knew it. The sexual tension made her throb for him, so instead she said quietly, "Thank you for the loan. I'll pay you back for the lease termination fee and for the movers."

"It's not necessary - " When she glanced at him with a frown, he bit off his words, seeming to understand her need for the satisfaction of solving her problems herself. "There's no rush to pay it back."

"Thank you." She bit her lower lip and glanced at him.

He remained so completely still and powerful. "Patience, sweetheart. If I touch you now, we'd have to stop at a church on the way to make an honest woman of you."

Her mouth ran dry, and she focused hard out the window. The temperature sky rocketed, and she ran a hand over the back of her neck, resisting the urge to fan herself. "Why are you staring?" Her heart pattered much too fast, and she bit her lip to release some of the restlessness.

"Your beauty and elegance brings me pleasure. I stare no more now than other times - you're simply noticing it, Emma." His deep voice flowed out smooth and rich.

She grew breathless and glanced to see if he was baiting her. It was as if her body went up in flames the moment she met his eye. Quickly looking back out the window, she took a deep breath. Dear heaven, he oozed power and sex. She ran her tongue over her lips and then bit her bottom lip in thought. Maybe having Pete pull over and getting out for a moment would stop the wild butterflies in her stomach.

"When you're mine, you won't have this luxury of such space in the car."

A thrill ran up her back at the words of being his, but then she looked at him in confusion. "Space in the car?"

He still didn't move. "If you dress to torment me, you might make it to the car - if I can make it out to the car before having sex with you."

Oh god, it was too hot. It was like being lightheaded but everything didn't spin. "You should behave, Jason." Her voice had a far more breathless quality than she wanted him to know how much he affected her.

"If you knew what I desired right now, you'd applaud my restraint."

Something in her gut tensed just a hint all of the sudden.

"Are you nervous, Emma?" The intimate, low tone of his voice sent her heart stumbling. The level of seduction in his tone, however, instantly cut off.

Her eyes searched her lap. How had he seen it? Desire battled with a hint of uncertainty and confusion. The idea of true intimacy, not just teasing like this morning, seemed odd and wrong now that he'd listened to the 911 call. He shouldn't want to touch her, and she shouldn't want him to...but she did. Oh god, she did.

"I won't touch under your clothes, Emma. Tell me to stop at any moment." He unbuckled and slid into the middle seat.

Something seemed wrong - not enough to fire warning bells, but enough that her breath hitched and she closed her eyes. His seatbelt clicked closed, and his body heat penetrated against her thigh and arm. The pounding of her heart picked up speed and almost hurt.

"No," he whispered and hooked a finger under her chin. "Look at me. Keep your eyes open and see it's just me. The longer we wait to be intimate again, the bigger the monster will grow. Look at me." Her eyes fluttered open. He sat turned in his seat and leaning on his elbow to push himself out a bit to meet her eyes. His lips brushed a kiss over hers, his eye open and studying her. "I won't go past your undergarments, Emma." His warm hand glided along her outer thigh.

She drew a sharp breath and closed her eyes, pressing her lips together. This shouldn't be hard. It shouldn't be so impossible to trust him all of the sudden.

He withdrew his hand and set her hands on his forearm. "Look at me, Emma," he ordered. She forced her eyes open. His stared back at her, full of strength and love. "Watch me, and he won't come," he promised, his voice just as husky and low as moments ago. "Press on my arm if you want to stop." A kiss brushed her cheek, and then he met her eyes. Then his lips brushed hers. His hand brushed her breasts, but that didn't make her muscles tense. Again, he searched her eyes - reading, studying.

The man honed in on every molecule of her being, ready to pick up on the slightest flinch, of which there was none - until his hand stroked along her knee. Two of her fingers twitched involuntarily on his arm through his suit before he even really touched her. He shouldn't have even been able to feel the twitch through his clothes.

In the next blink of an eye, he sat back, his hands withdrawn. He leaned across the empty seat and rolled down the divider a bit. "Stevens, please stop for lunch. Feel free to take a break."

"Yes, sir."

He rolled up the window.

How cruel to him to suddenly be so mistrusting. Why was this even happening? "I'm sorry - "

He looked at her. "Never apologize for something not feeling right." His tone left no room for argument but no room for blame either.

She looked down at her hands, unsure what to say. He didn't seem angry but not comforting either. As soon as the car rolled to a stop in a parking lot, Stevens got out and disappeared inside the diner on the side of the highway.

Jason's hand reached down and unbuckled her and then himself. "The belt. Come here, Emma." He didn't wait but pulled her into his lap.

"The belt?" She blinked in confusion and held onto his shoulders as he slid up her skirt so she could straddle his hips.

"Being strapped in frightened you."

She blinked. The uncertain, nervous feeling in her belly was gone now. She looked at him, eye level being in his lap. How on earth had he figured that out? Desire flared in his eye, and she flushed. He had her skirt shoved up and held her hips to press her down on him. His arousal strained his pants, and he cupped her bare bottom in both hands to rock her. Today was the wrong day to wear 'seamless' underwear that had very little material covering her backside, but his warm hands and firm grip made her throb with pleasure.

His head fell back against the seat. "God save me, Emma, I want to rip off your underwear," he panted and swallowed hard. His fingers dug into her bottom and gave a firm squeeze. "You're so soft. I want to kiss my way down your body." His eye rolled back.

His passion left her as breathless as him. Holding his broad shoulders, she rubbed herself along the length of him.

"No, Emma. I won't last," he panted and clamped his hands on her hips to immobilize her

"Oh. I didn't mean to make you hard," she whispered, biting her lip with a shy smile. She dropped her full weight down on him and rocked slightly even though he held her hips still.

His eye shot open, a bit dazed and quite dilated. He swatted her bare bottom. "Don't you get sassy," he smiled.

She bit her lip with a smile. "I like your hands on me." Her hands pressed over his to cup her bottom again. He was so sweet in holding her without his hands wandering into disrespectful territory.

"You tempt the devil, Emma." A rakish smile danced across his lips. His nailed lightly raked across her bottom and down her thighs.

Her smile vanished in a heartbeat as intense pleasure bolted through her body. She startled the slightest bit and looked at him with wide eyes. How on earth had he caused that reaction? Then the corner of his lip curled up, as if pleased by her response. His hand dipped between her legs and the soft raking of his nails over her sex shot her body to the edge and back. She cried out in pleasure and surprise, as every muscle contracted and just as immediately relaxed. Panting hard, she looked at him in surprise. He somehow played her body like an instrument, knowing exactly how to make the symphony swell.

"I love how sensitive you are, my Emma," he purred, his voice so husky it fell nearly a full octave. Then his hand stroked again, but this time he so very gently pinched her nub of pleasure for a split instant.

She cried out and fell against him, clutching his shoulders for dear life. He didn't touch, letting her body calm as she panted so hard it was almost impossible to breathe. Pleasure had never been so intense. A single touch had never sent her to the edge and back so fast. What was he doing?

His palm grazed her, and then his finger pressed through her cotton panties. He hit just right, knowing exactly how to make her soar. "I love you," he whispered.

She gasped and grabbed fistfuls of his shirtcollar. Her body tensed, the pleasure surging wave over wave, too fast to keep up. Before she could even speak, the fireworks exploded. A warm rush swept through, and she moaned with the bliss of release. His kisses to her neck and gentle thrusts of his finger only prolonged the euphoria. She rocked calm and steady, even the pressure of his chest on her breasts bringing pleasure. "Jay," she whispered and then moaned soft in her throat again. The drumming of her heart took it's time to slow down. "I love you," she breathed against his lips.

He kissed her, shifting his hands to her thighs as he rolled her onto the seat. He straddled her but pulled her legs up to wrap around his hips as he gently thrusted. "I can't. I don't trust myself," he panted and pulled away to sit back in his corner of the car. His chest heaved, his hands shaking slightly as he rubbed his forehead.

She squirmed a bit, trying to get as comfortable as possible with a damp undergarment. He held out his handkerchief, and she blinked.

"I vow I'll leave you alone. Take them off." He set the handkerchief on the middle seat when she looked at him with huge eyes. "I'll bring back food." He slipped out of the car.

She debated for a moment, but comfort finally won out. Wrapping her panties tight in the handkerchief, she looked around for where to set it without Stevens or anyone seeing it. She still held it when Jason got back in.

He set the food down in the middle seat and then took the handkerchief and tucked it in the inner breast pocket of his suit jacket.

She stared. "Um, my panties are in there." Her face burned.

"And?" He flipped open a compartment and pulled out hand sanitizer, taking some and then handing it over to her.

She took it but stared at him as he dug her food out of the bag. Carrying her panties in his pocket seemed so...intimate.

He handed over her food and glanced at her. "I prefer to not have it out where someone might see my lady's personal item. Eat your food, Emma."

A shy flush crept up her face. The dear man was being protective. She unwrapped her sandwich and glanced at him.

He sat back and watched her, the desire in his eye more apparent than before.

"Aren't you eating?" She frowned and looked down at the empty bag. Two shakes sat in the cardboard drink holder, but that was it.

"I'm fine."

"Jason?" She reached over and set a hand on his arm. His throat convulsed a little too hard for a swallow. "Does your throat hurt?"

"Just allergies," he stated and pulled his arm away.

"Jay, talk to me." It was somehow related to the fire, if his sudden emotional wall was any indication. "With the throat trouble you have from the fire, allergies would be problematic. Your voice isn't husky, it's a bit hoarse, isn't it?" It should have been apparent before this. Guilt swelled up from being too wrapped up in her own desire to notice it sooner.

He looked out his window. "Emma, I don't want to talk about it."

"Then we don't talk about it, just tell me what helps. You only had juice and a strip of bacon for breakfast. You need to eat something today." She wrapped her hands around her icy milkshake. With the esophageal scarring he already had and trouble with swallowing bite-sized pieces of food, allergies probably caused swelling and further constriction. Her heart twisted when his stomach growled. He cleared his throat and shifted, as if hoping she hadn't heard. Having food right there but unable to eat when hungry...it seemed so cruel. Tears blurred her vision. She wouldn't eat in front of him.

She slid into the middle seat and laid her chilled hand on his throat. The lymph node in his neck stuck out a little from the swelling. "Does the cold help? Or allergy medicine?"

He didn't pull away, but he didn't seem to welcome the attention either. "I'm already on allergy injections during the warmer months because I end up with pneumonia otherwise," he said, his voice so flat. "I used to be one of the best SEALS, Emma. I'll be lucky to pass the physical next year because I wheeze more since getting the pneumonia a couple months ago." He kept his gaze focused out the window, as if struggling to open up even this much.

She stroked his cheek. His words from weeks ago about feeling old and frail from so many health problems echoed loud and clear. "Jay, pneumonia can take awhile to clear up. You don't know what medical advancements will come out. We'll worry about the physical when it comes. As for right now, it will be good for you to just be home. Since you had the pneumonia, you've been running around to Florida and California...there will be time to just rest now. It might make a world of difference. If it doesn't, I still love you." That lightened the sadness in his eye a bit. "You'll just have to be content with keeping the babies and I out of trouble." That drew a soft smile on his lips.

"You're good at keeping me out of the doldrums, Emma." He tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

"No, I'm good at being cute and sexy." She beamed a smile and winked.

That won a hearty laugh. "That you are, sweetheart."

"Now, we'll find a grocery store and get you bananas and yogurt..." She looked down at her grilled chicken sandwich and washed her hands with the sanitizer. Then she laid out a napkin on her lap and shredded a couple pieces of chicken apart with her fingers and a fork. She handed it to him to try.

"Emma," he protested.

She looked at him. "I'll get another sandwich, if that's what you're arguing. You need protein too."

He popped the strands in his mouth in silence and swallowed. They seemed to go down fine, but he looked...humiliated.

Shaking her head, she frowned. "It's not treating you like an old man, Jason." She searched his eye. "I can't do anything to help with your burns, vision, or hearing, and it's hard feeling like I'm leaving you on your own. But I can help with this. It's no different than you handing me pieces of a sandwich and telling me I have to finish putting it together." She gave a soft shrug. "I'm just giving you a meal ready to eat like you give me. I know you're uncomfortable eating with anyone - I just want you to feel less different if you have to eat with me. I won't cut up every meal because that is treating you like a baby. Just let me do it if I'm cooking. Go grab my sandwich while I finish yours," she said with a smile and continued shredding it.

Something softened in his eye, and he looked a little choked up. Some of his self-confidence returned. "I love you, Emma." He set a hand on her arm, and she looked at him. "When I imagined having a partner in life, I never truly understood what it meant - " His voice grew so thick that it cut off his words. He turned his head away and gave her arm a squeeze before he got out, unable to finish his sentence.

She brushed away the tears from her eyes, so touched that even such a simple act meant so much to him.

When he got back in the car, he handed her a sandwich. She handed over his shredded chicken in the wrapper. "I shredded the lettuce and cut up the tomato too - maybe with the cold milkshake they'll go down easy enough."

"Thank you, Emma," he whispered. He leaned over and pressed a kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering a moment.

Her heart said the memory of that kiss would last even long after other memories faded with old age. The reason or date behind the kiss would fade, but the feeling of his soul kissing hers would burn vivid forever.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:Thanks for the reviews, YazmineXD, callico11852, Guest, and Waya17. Glad you caught up, Waya17!**

 **I had to do a lot of research about the contracting and hacking.**

* * *

It felt so good to be home. Poor Jason had been on the phone with work almost constantly to catch up since arriving home last night. That left ample time to job and apartment hunt, unfortunately. She scrolled through the next page of job ads on the laptop in her old office. Medical writer jobs that were open weren't nearby or sounded utterly boring. Pretty much just retail jobs existed nearby or things that didn't sound appealing. Hm. A finance job popped up that seemed a little interesting. It would be so lovely to take his medical writing job and stay here, though. It was sweet of him, but there was a certain level of pride in earning a job on her own.

She looked around the large study. He hadn't changed a thing - even a pile of her notes still sat on the corner of the desk. Searching for a job and apartment made the homesickness well up over leaving here. She glanced down at Prince sprawled out on the floor asleep with Jason's sock in his mouth. He had settled back into the old routine fast too.

With a sigh, she flipped back to the apartment search tab on the screen. The travel time to the town at the bottom of the mountain would be fifteen minutes at best. The town, however, was so small that there weren't any rooms or apartments for rent. The closest was a half hour away. It looked like a beautiful little building, and the office manager had said on the phone this morning that Prince would be welcome and she had one apartment left in the twelve-unit complex. She bit her lip. The new tenant had backed out and several other people were clamoring for the apartment, for which the possession date would be this weekend. The price wasn't bad, and the reviews online were wonderful. But, it was happening too fast. She'd just returned to home. No, this was Jason's home. Still, the thought of leaving already caused a stomachache. Jason probably wouldn't mind if she stayed a couple weeks. But she was getting ahead of herself. The first thing was to come up with a job to pay for the apartment.

Someone knocked on the semi-closed office door. Trudy peeked in with a smile. "It's as good as a sunny day in Hawaii to see you at that desk." The woman covered her mouth. "Oh, Dr. Port said to get you quick and not yammer like that. He's in his office with some people and said for you to come." She stepped in with black slacks, black heels, and an ivory silk blouse in her hands. "He said you need to wear this, don'tcha know. He was as serious as a monkey in a tree."

She frowned and started changing when Trudy shut the door. "Who's here?"

"Stevens said it's the FBI." The woman seemed to fight a smile.

Her heart dropped and eyes flew to Trudy, her hands frozen in the middle of buttoning up the blouse. "They aren't taking Jason somewhere else, are they?"

Trudy waked over and finger-combed back her hair, clipping in a barrett at the base of her neck while she buttoned up the pants. "No. There. You look like a professional lark."

"What?" She turned and faced Trudy, tucking in the last bit of the blouse into her pants. When Trudy smiled, she bit her lip as nerves sparked. "Trudy, what's going on? Is he alright?"

"He's as right as rain, don'tcha know." Then Trudy hussled her out, not giving any indication why Jason had the FBI in his office.

Stevens stood outside Jason's closed study doors, a smile splitting his face too.

"What's going on?" she whispered. Getting ambushed like this with the FBI wasn't as fun as it apparently was for everyone else.

Trudy giggled with excitement and knocked before opening the door.

Jason sat behind his desk at the far end of the room wearing the half mask and stood. Frank and another man sitting opposite of him stood too and turned.

The pounding of her heart thudded in her ears. Taking a calming breath, she walked in. Jason smiled and seemed relaxed, Frank didn't look stressed, and the other athletic-physiqued man didn't portray any emotion. When she reached them, Jason stepped around the desk and set a hand on her back.

Standing near the three of these broad, tall men, an inkling of self-confidence inched up out of nowhere. These were not only physically strong men, but an aura of strong wills flowed throughout the room too. Something said that although Jason would help her hold her own, this was a situation in which respect would be earned tenfold from all the men if she demanded it herself. This feeling of such calm confidence in 'public' was new. Jason always carried himself with such quiet elegance and confidence - perhaps it was rubbing off.

"Emma, you know Frank," Jason said.

Frank held out his hand. "Nice to see you again, Emma."

"You too." She smiled and returned his handshake with equal strength.

"This is Agent Max Olin, manager of the finance analysts and forensic accountants division." Jason gestured to the man standing on Frank's other side.

The man stepped forward and gave a weak, somewhat disinterested handshake. "Ms. Hoplin."

Apparently he didn't like her. Instead of nervousness creeping up, however, determination to not be dismissed bloomed. "Agent Olin," she replied with a firm grip.

"Please have a seat, gentlemen," Jason said and gestured for her to take his own chair being they were short one.

She glanced at him, but he gave no hint as to what this meeting was about. A glint of pride, however, did glow in his eye. When she sat, he stood beside her.

Frank sat back with a smile and steepled his fingers. "Emma, the financial work you did on the Charlotte's Hope case was...well, nothing short of impressive. The work you did at Loyd & Loyd took some talent too."

She frowned. "My understanding was the case was closed. If you have questions about what I did, I left my notes in the other office."

Agent Olin opened a briefcase on the desk and set a small stack of financial papers in front of her.

"No, that case is closed. I have a favor, Emma," Frank stated. "Several of our accountants struggled with this other case for three days. We would like to see what your initial theory is, just reviewing the papers for the next few minutes. We thought funds were being transferred to this account from stocks in bits and pieces - it's consistent in having deposits on dates when Wall Street had large fluxuations."

She flipped through the papers. Certain numbers jumped out on the pages, forming abstract patterns. The patterns began to morph into methods. "May I?" She picked up Jason's pen and hovered it over the papers. When Frank nodded, she drew arrows connecting the patterns and numbered the methods as they occurred. Another pattern emerged. Grabbing the calculator on the desk, she punched in numbers while she spoke. "Your theory is wrong - ties to the stock market are what the thief wants you to think, but you already figured that out."

Frank chuckled and sat back, moving out of her peripheral vision. Agent Olin didn't move or make a sound. The body heat from Jason intensified, as if he leaned a bit closer to watch.

"Don't hover," she mumbled and started scratching down answers to calculations. Hovering broke into the world of concentration.

"Sorry," he whispered and stepped back.

Her pen flew, everything molding together in perfect harmony. Where were these deposits the sizes of paychecks coming from? Freelance work? Not likely to be that frequent. Transfers to avoid monthly maintenance account fees? Probably not. A Switzerland untraceable transfer? Eh. Some type of cyber hack seemed most likely.

Agent Olin set down another stack of papers. "This account is held by the same person, only offshore. Dr. Port tells us that you think best backwards, so I'm giving these in the order we discovered them." This account had multiple, smaller deposits received a few times a month. Large sums were withdrawn. Three sums, one withdraw each month for three months, totaled a deposit amount in the other account. Setting aside the previous account, she started marking up these papers. Several withdraws, sometimes over the course of a year, matched the deposits of the other account. Some, however, did not.

A penny hack...now, that was a possibility. "If the person had several accounts accepting tiny deposits and then made non-obvious deposits into this account, it wouldn't raise suspicion. These deposits aren't related to stocks - Wall Street has security watching for penny hacks. There are too many eyes on Wall Street to risk it. This isn't sophisticated enough for that kind of theft but more for a small-time crook. Probably a hack into sites that require the users to give a couple pennies or dollars as 'account opening' payment to verify the account is active. I'd bet this person scammed thousands of accounts, just a few pennies at a time, and made deposits into several accounts so as not to draw attention. This first account you showed is US-based, and likely is one of the last or nearly last accounts in the whole string of them. I'd warrant the other accounts were offshore and in multiple countries too. From those several accounts, the thief funneled them into maybe a handful of US accounts - I think you are missing some other last-stop accounts. I would be shocked if the theft hadn't stolen at least at a few hundred thousand dollars." She set the papers on the desk and looked at the men.

The men blinked. Agent Olin cleared his throat. "How many US accounts do you suspect?"

"A minimum of five. If the thief is an amature, the accounts receiving the penny deposits are offshore where hundreds of deposits a month aren't questioned. If the thief has half a brain, he or she has a computer bug acting as the virtual account. The thousands of pennies are virtually housed in a server on the way to the bank." She flipped a paper and drew on the back of it, more for Jason and Frank to follow the conversation with Agent Olin. She drew several computers and lines from each that merged and turned into one line. "Here where it merges, it's virtually gathered and then routed as a large, single deposit into the bank's computer." She drew a line ending at the bank. "It's a virtual crime that can be complicated to trace in the cyber world."

"And you can trace it?" Agent Olin asked, sounding unimpressed.

"Give me a computer guru, and I can tell him what backdoors we need to go in. I don't know coding or hacking to do it myself."

"You've had no formal education in all of this, besides your forensic accounting minor. Where did you pick all this up?" Olin asked.

"I'm told I'm a fast learner, and cyber hack cases at Loyd & Loyd interested me." She shrugged.

Frank smiled. "That's almost exactly what happened with the case, Emma."

"Jesus, Em," Jason whispered in shock. "How the hell did you figure that out in a few minutes?"

She shrugged, her face growing warm from the fuss everyone made about it. "The patterns. This was an easy case. Yours was more complicated, so it took a few weeks to figure out."

Frank shook his head, seeming impressed. "We found that a quarter million had been embezeled from thousands of accounts." He held her gaze. "It took two account analysts two days to figure out what you did in ten minutes. The FBI can't afford to lose time like that or the expense of paying salaries."

Agent Olin took the papers and set something else down in front of her. It looked like a contract. "We want to freelance you, Ms. Hoplin." He sounded like she was being handed a gift and should drop to her knees in gratitude.

The pride oozed from Jason without even needing to look at him.

She looked at the men, a calmness sweeping over. "What kind of cases and where?"

"We'll start you out with felony crimes by citizens, such as this one. If you do well, we'll move you up. If you can handle that, we might hire you on eventually as an FBI employee to work on terrorist crimes," Agent Olin said.

Her eyes didn't waiver. "What was Charlotte's Hope classified as?"

"Dr. Port should have brought it to our attention far sooner than he did."

That wasn't the question. "I don't believe most CEOs would grab the FBI for _suspected_ embezeling," she countered. "Once I pointed out to him that it was a terrorist crime, he did take it to you." Well, maybe he took it to them because she'd run away, but they didn't need to know that.

Frank cracked a smile. "True that it was a terrorist crime. Agent Olin has an outstanding team that is hard to get on. What he means is we need to make sure your Charlotte's Hope success wasn't a fluke."

Agent Olin was a bit of a chauvenist seemed more like an accurate description.

"How many women are on your team, Agent Olin? And what kinds of cases do they work?" Jason asked, seeming to have the same thought.

"My team of fifteen has two girls - "

She bristled. The way he said 'girls' implied inferiority.

"Both of whom work on citizen and corporate cases. They won't be advancing to terrorist cases," he continued. His eye swung from Jason to her. "You can work remotely from here, Ms. Hoplin. You'll be given three small cases a week, which equates to part-time hours. The salary would be thirteen dollars an hour."

She sat back in the chair and frowned at the man. "Have you ever had anyone who actually accepted that offer?"

Jason cleared his throat, as if trying not to laugh over her comment.

The man looked a little irritated. "You're not an FBI employee, experienced, or full-time."

She shook her head. "I'd be financially better off getting a retail job. I must've misunderstood it as desired talent when my experience and skill were praised." She stood and held out her hand. "Thank you for your time, gentlemen."

Frank shook her hand but looked disappointed. Agent Olin didn't stand or extend his hand, so she slipped out from behind the desk, glancing at Jason on her way past. He gave a sad smile, as if encouraging her decision but sorry about the outcome. She made it just a few steps from the desk.

"Twenty seven an hour, thirty two hours a week on average," Agent Olin said.

She turned and looked at the man, who still sat with his back to her. He didn't turn. Jason scowled at his rudeness. Frank looked at her and nudged Olin. He didn't budge.

"That is a wonderful offer, Agent Olin," she said to the back of his head. "However, I only work where skill is respected, not penis size. Good day, gentlemen." She turned to go, but not before catching Jason's smile of approval. Oh god, she shouldn't have said that, especially to an FBI agent. But he was being a dick and deserved to be called on it.

"Ms. Hoplin."

Taking a deep breath for patience, she turned.

He stood and looked at her, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets and leaning back against the desk. "I don't coddle females like Dr. Port seems to coddle you."

Her eyes narrowed. Jason scowled severely from behind the man.

"In my line of work with hotshots and terrorists who are so holy that God gave them the entitlement to embezzle and break laws, a penis is a necessity in holding your own," he smirked.

"You will be respectful in this house, Agent Olin," Jason snapped, looking ready to thrash him. His words fell on deaf ears.

She looked Agent Olin straight in the eye, and her blood pressure shot through the roof. If he wanted to play hardball, she was more than ready to finally dish it back to a man after these three years. "I might be inclined to believe you, except for one thing: _you_ told Frank that you wanted the offer made to me. Frank doesn't have the authority to have say who gets put on your team, and your boss is likely so high up that he doesn't care who you put on as long as the work gets done. _You_ came to _me_ for a recruitment. You want me for terrorist accounts, because you'd be wasting your time here otherwise. If you're making a job offer, do it without the insults; otherwise, the door is right there." Her eyes sliced through him. Big talk, given her fear of men, but right now that fear smashed like a gnat under anger's foot. Goddammit, if another man thought he'd bully like Gaston and get her to bend over and take it, she'd show him where to shove it. No man would ever again lord power over her, no matter how minor.

Jason stepped between them, casually setting a hand on her arm to calm the tension. He faced away from the men, so his stern, pointed look remained private. "Em, he's not him," he whispered for her ears alone. He held her eyes and squeezed her arm with reassurance.

That fast, he grounded her. The haze of red faded. She took a deep breath. He was right that fear made her overreact.

Agent Olin stepped around Jason and cracked a smile. "I think the boys are going to like you. They'll give you crap for awhile, but you'll hold your own." He held out his hand.

She blinked.

"I don't take anyone on my staff who doesn't have backbone. One of the women is far too aggressive and wouldn't be good in working on the terrorist accounts with having to do interviews. The other woman doesn't have the confidence yet to do interviews. You, I think, can bust balls, with a little bit of training. I must say that I expected to find a woman far too skittish from your history to sit in a room of men and concentrate that intensely on a case."

Her face burned with embarrassment. Of course he knew about the rape.

"If you perform like I expect, within a year or two you'll get five weeks of training at our academy in Virginia and you'll get to the big assignments. You work your own way up, and that's what you'll get. But you will have to figure out if eventually you can be comfortable working in an office with a team of men." He shook her hand.

He had been testing her on several levels, and she had apparently passed with flying colors. He was being more considerate of her situation than he had to be, earning respect for his compassion. She blinked. "This whole thing is very unexpected. May I sleep on it?"

"Sure." He held out his hand to Frank, who brought over some papers. "This outlines the position. It would be contract for a year or two, until we discover your strengths and weaknesses. You can test the water, see if you like it. I don't promise a permanent position, though. It's hard work. My team is tough and some of the guys will give you a hard time at first, but if you prove yourself, you'll see that we all have each other's backs. We treat each other like family."

Her head reeled still as she stood in the foyer and Jason closed the front door when the men left. "Did you set this up?" She frowned.

He turned to her with a hoot of excitement and spun her around in his arms. "No! I didn't know a thing about it until they showed up! You earned it yourself! Em, I'm so proud of you!"

Trudy and Pete burst out of the kitchen with hugs as soon as Jason set her down. "Even if you don't take it, I'm as happy as bells on clams!" Trudy touted.

"This is amazing!" Pete beamed.

She bit her lip and looked at Jason, who stood back studied her intently. There was no feeling of excitement in her heart, just...dread.

"Come talk, sweetheart." He held out a hand, concern clouding his eye. Trudy and Pete looked worried too, as if suddenly noticing her mood.

He took her into the study and shut the large wood doors. Then he turned and his embrace made it all a little better. "Tell me why you look as if you don't know what you're feeling, sweetheart."

Her brow furrowed with worry, simply searching his eye for several moments and trying to formulate the feelings into words. "I don't know if I want to spend my life staring at numbers. I always envisioned medical writing and eventually helping write medical books."

"Why?" He locked his hands behind her back like he was ready to listen.

"To do something with my life. To make a difference. To help advance medicine." She shrugged.

He hooked his forefinger under her chin to hold her eyes. "Let's say you solve an embezzlement for a clinic that keeps it from shutting down, and that clinic goes on to help hundreds of lives. Isn't that making a difference in medicine?"

She gave him a look. "Charlotte's Hope is different. It's probably the exception and best case I'll ever get."

He waved a hand. "What if you crack open money being funded for terrorist activity? Isn't that making a difference?"

Again, Charlotte's Hope.

"I'm not saying you have to take it, Emma. You have a gift, but there's no sense in using it if you won't be happy." His eye searched hers.

"You think I should take it." She paced and ran a hand over her hair.

"I think you should do what will make you happy."

"But what do you think I should do." She continued pacing, the anxiety growing.

He frowned and looked reluctant to say anything. "If you want my opinion, I am inclined to vote that you try it because this chance won't come along again. You haven't done much medical writing to be certain you'll like it." He cut into her path and caught her hands. "I still need a medical writer, if you want it just a few hours a week. You can fit it in here and there around the FBI job, just to get a little taste even, to see if you like it. I can take the brunt of the writing so you don't get swamped." He searched her eye. "I don't want to see you lose something you might love without trying it, sweetheart." He seemed to sense her stress still.

Backing up for some physical distance to protect her heart from the hurt, she bit her lip. She had to spill it and get it off her chest. "I couldn't find a place in the town at the bottom of the mountain. I found an apartment thirty minutes away that will take Prince," she rushed out. "It's in a nice neighborhood and has good reviews." Leaving here would break her heart. To be so far away from him after just getting him back would be so hard. This felt like home - he felt like home. With his random travel schedule and this FBI job, plus working on the medical writing article and the hour round trip to see him...there would be little time together. Perhaps weekends - if he wasn't traveling for work.

Similiar thoughts must've crossed his mind because sadness swept across his face. "That was fast." He looked away. "That's wonderful." Only he didn't sound happy. "Stevens can take you to see it whenever you wish. I'll come too, if you'd like."

"We said I was just staying here until I found a place." Her heart dropped when he made no protest to stop everything. Maybe she was getting in the way with his work and he wanted her to move out. Maybe he needed the space, like the therapist said. He'd even said it'd be good for her to be out on her own. But there was no excitement or warm fuzzy feeling about getting out on her own again, just dread for the impending loneliness. Perhaps if he came along to see the apartment, reality might hit and he'd ask her to stay. On the other hand, they'd agreed to not live together before marriage. Staying here was just a temporary solution, but everything had felt so right since arriving back here.

If hard lines were drawn and rent was paid to have the independence of being self-sufficient, perhaps he wouldn't mind if she stayed. "They said it can be shown tomorrow morning. They've already shown it to four people and expect to run credit checks by tomorrow afternoon." A protest...anything to indicate he didn't want her to go.

"I have a meeting from nine to noon for the patent that I can't miss." His eye searched hers. "When would the lease start?"

"On the first of the month." Her heart beat faster with hope that he'd put a stop to it.

His eyebrow shot up. "In three days? You'd move out this weekend?"

With a slow nod, she held his stare. "The person who leased it backed out at the last minute." He didn't say anything even though his eyebrow furrowed. His gaze searched hers for so long that it grew awkward. She broke the eye contact. "It's fine. I don't need you to come. I'm a big girl." She forced a smile.

He didn't smile. "If you work both jobs, live a half hour away, and I'm traveling to Europe frequently this spring because of the patents...we won't see each other much." His lips pressed together. "I expected it to take you until after the trial to find a place and a job because it usually takes two or three months with job interviews. I was going to ask you to come with me for a week to Europe a time or two." He looked away.

A trip to Europe with him. How romantic and sweet...a trip that probably wouldn't happen now. He didn't protest the move or the job, and it hurt that he didn't care that they wouldn't see each other much. Squaring her shoulders, she took a steadying breath. "You're probably right that I shouldn't turn down this FBI job without trying it. And we agreed to not live together, so it seems like everything is working itself out." The beating of her heart ached, and tears threatened to fall. Turning on her heel, she hurried into her study. He stood in the foyer watching as she shut the door, his face unreadable.

He didn't come out of his office the rest of the day and was already holed up the next morning when she left with Stevens for the apartment viewing. Apparently she couldn't leave fast enough for him.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Let me know if it seems too crazy. I was going to have her work for Jason as a medical writer, but it seemed too convenient that he had a job for her again and like she's too reliant on Jason for everything. Plus, it seemed like too much of Jason being "the boss" and her being the "little woman." The girl's got skills of her own!** **From the research I did, her work on the Charlotte's Hope case is how FBI contractors start out and sometimes become employees. Spoiler alert: She's going to choose to remain a contractor vs permanent employee for certain reasons cuz that's not where I want the story to focus - her work cases are just going to be mentioned here and there in the main storyline.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note: Thanks for the review, Singingsilent. It's Emma and Jason - of course they aren't going to let the miscommunication go on too long. I like to write like real-life where miscommunication happens along the way, no matter how long you've been together. With the interruptions they've had (met in mid-Dec and this is roughly the beginning of May), they've actually only been together 2-3 months.**

 **Thanks, CRB. Yeah, I agree a field agent is too far fetched. She can't be forensic because it looks like they travel doing interrogations with the big guys, but a financial analyst can work remotely. I'm learning how to hold myself back, slowly but surely. :)**

 **Thanks, Waya17. I did so much research that it seemed like a 'duh' about the tests, but I forgot that readers don't know that. :)**

* * *

She stood outside his office door holding his lunch plate and nibbling her lip. He'd be happy to hear she'd been approved for the apartment. She could borrow the security deposit from Andy and pay it back after getting her first paycheck. Then she could start paying Jason back too. He'd likely be happy to have her stop causing him headaches, but having to tell him about moving would make it seem so...final. "Stop being a whimp," she mumbled and took a deep breath. She knocked.

"Come in!"

She walked in. He sat at the desk adjusting the ski mask a bit, as if he'd just put it on. "Here's your lunch." She set it on the desk and took a step back to get some courage from the physical distance.

He rested his elbows on the desk and folded his hands together, his mouth hidden from view. His face offered no expression and his eye locked on her. "Did you see the apartment?"

She nodded and clasp her hands tight. "She ran the approval, and I have the lease to sign and return by morning." She swallowed hard. It seemed so difficult, so final like she'd hardly ever see him. At least until his work calmed down in the fall.

His eye dropped to her stomach for a moment. Then he dropped his hands and busied himself with putting files in his drawer. "I imagine you need a co-signer, not having proof of income at the moment. Let me know if you'd like me to sign." He didn't look up.

Her heart plummeted like it had dropped into an empty well. The flicker of hope that maybe he'd voice a protest snuffed out. He'd once mentioned that he missed her not being around the house, but maybe his month of bachelorhood during his FBI trial had been rejuvenating. Perhaps he felt too suffocated having her around, particularly after the disasterous trip to Florida. It took a moment to find her voice. "Thank you, but Andy can sign it. I'll go so you can eat."

As soon as she shut the door, she leaned against it and released a shakey breath. Her heart thundered as tears threatened. Gaston had said she was a pest. Apparently he was right - Jason hadn't been able to stand being in the same hotel room with her for a week before he'd needed to get his own room. God, he probably stayed holed up in his office to avoid her. The shame and humiliation from the memory of Gaston's words bubbled up, his laughter ringing as loud as if he stood right there. She roughly brushed away the tears and set off for her room, her appetite for lunch gone. It wasn't fair to make Jason feel trapped in his own home. She could stay in her room for the next two days to give him room to breathe.

* * *

A knock echoed on the bedroom door at dusk. She set down the lease contract and answered, holding her belly from the raging menstrual cramps that had decided to hit with a vengance.

Jason stood there with a plate of crackers and water. "Trudy said you haven't eaten since breakfast. Are you unwell?" He frowned.

Of course Trudy had snitched. Now here he was, his honor forcing him to check on her.

 _A worthless pest._ Gaston's voice whispered in her head.

"No, I'm fine." Jason didn't need to know she'd been too upset to eat lunch and now her menses caused nausea. She bit her lip as another wave of intense cramps hit, and her hand tightened on the doorknob. The ibuprofen didn't seem to be doing anything.

His eye narrowed. "Are you sure? You look pale."

"I'm fine. I'm sorry Trudy bothered you with this." Her brow grew warm from the intensity of the pain. Holy mother. She grabbed the door with her other hand, as if to close it. In truth she needed to clutch something. Great, here came the sweating from pain. Sheer stubbornness to not let him feel guilted into staying was the only thing that kept her from sinking to the floor and curling into a ball. Dear god, he needed to go so she could die in peace.

He stepped in and set down the plate on the bed before feeling her pulse at her neck. "What hurts?" he demanded.

"Nothing. Just go. Please." His cool hand touched her brow. She blew out a breath to breathe through the pain.

"Emma. Are you having chest pain?" His eye narrowed with worry.

"No, it's nothing - "

"It's not nothing. You look like you're in labor," he snapped. Then he stilled, as if realizing his words.

"Go," she groaned and leaned her forehead against the door in humiliation. But strong hands wrapped around her hips from behind and compressed. The pain cut in half, and the tension in her hips eased.

"I know you're mad at me for something, but let me help." He shut the door, unzipped her jeans from behind, and slipped his hand in to press his fingers into her lower belly.

She gasped when it caused a particularly hard cramp at first, but then his fingers walked up her belly with deep pressure and the cramping started to ease a bit. "I'm not mad," she panted and held onto the doorknob tight.

His hand gave a deep massage and then returned to compress her hips. "You seem like you can't wait to get out of here." Slight hurt colored his voice.

She looked over her shoulder with wide eyes. "I thought you wanted me to go."

"Why would I ever want you to go?" He frowned and his thumbs pressed on the backs of her hips.

Her groan of relief cut through the silence, and her hands braced against the door to hold still against his wonderful pressure. "You've been locked up in your office like you don't want me around."

"We hadn't been back for even twelve hours when you already found a place. My apologies if I made you feel like I wanted you to go. I'm so behind on work from being gone for a month that it was nearly eleven o'clock before I went to bed the past couple nights." His hands slipped around and pulled her back against his chest to massage her belly. He nuzzled her ear.

"Would you say if I get to be a pest again?" She bit her lip, too tense to really relax from the massage.

He stilled for a moment. "What are you talking about? I've never thought you're a pest, sweetheart. I think I missed something. I thought you were having second thoughts about everything after being together in Florida and were eager to get out of here. That's why I was holing up. What were you thinking?"

She bit her lip, her heart beating out of her chest. "You couldn't stand being in the same room with me for a week in Florida, so I thought - "

"Whoa, whoa." He leaned over her shoulder to catch her eye. "That had nothing to do with 'not being able to stand' being around you. It's a freaky neurotic thing that I have, that is my problem. I thought we worked it out and you understood it's nothing against you. It doesn't mean I don't want you around or I think you're a pest." He scowled. "Where did this 'pest' thing come from?"

Pressing her lips together, she looked away. Telling him would just add to the humiliation. She zipped her jeans and turned when his hands slipped away and his heat at her back dissipated.

He paced near the foot of the bed and ran his hands over the top of the mask, as if running them through his hair. "I'll kill him. I'm going to fucking kill the goddamn bastard piece of shit next week, I swear to God." He slipped into a foreign language, but by the way he spat the words, he probably did it intentionally to not burn her ears off. "Ay 'ave ta punch somethin'," he growled in his Scottish burr and stormed out.

It helped seeing him so enraged - to see he'd never think such a thing of her and that he still felt so protective. She wandered down the hall, following him at a distance. He strode with a purpose, anger fueling his gait. When he turned the corner to the wing of his bedroom, she walked a bit faster and held her belly when the cramps started returning. He disappeared into a room at the end of the hall. She peeked inside when he didn't close the door.

Practically any type of gym equipment imaginable sat in the room, from weights to a treadmill. He stormed up to a punching bag hanging in the corner, jerked on a boxing glove, and slammed his fist into the thing. Her heart shot into her throat when the heavy bag whipped back and propelled right back at him. But he must've been ready for it because his fist swung again. The bag split like a sack of potatoes and sand cascaded onto the floor. His temper apparently still ran strong because he ripped the bag right off the chain in a fit and threw it down on the small mountain of sand.

"Better?" She couldn't hold back a smile.

He spun around and pulled off the glove. "No." But the tension seemed to slip away from him as he walked over. His arms wrapped around her in a firm embrace. "Don't ever assume I think something he's said. I don't care what the hell it is - even if he said the sky is blue, you ask me if I think that too before assuming I do."

She hugged him. "Don't think I want to leave unless I say so."

"Deal."

"I think it'll get worse with the trial coming," she whispered and buried her face against his chest.

His arms tightened. "I know it will, and the nightmares will probably start too." He hesitated. "Emma? I know we agreed to not live together. Maybe you could take a little time before moving out. With the trial coming, you have enough stress."

She leaned back in his arms and looked up at him. "I partly jumped at getting out fast because I don't want to go. I just want to get it over with." Swallowing hard, she forced her stomach back down her throat. He could so easily break her heart.

His eye softened with hope. "Don't go. Stay with me until after the trial, Emma." He shook his head. "I won't step a foot into your room. We'll figure out hard boundaries so we don't get carried away one night. Get settled in your job. You'll have a battery of exams and background checks before getting hired. There's so much stress coming up for you. I don't feel right asking you to move in with me, even though I want to, but don't go yet."

She searched his face that almost glowed with hope. Her brow furrowed with regret. "Jay, this apartment is so perfect. I don't know that I'll find something as nice or even as close. It has a big yard for Prince, and it has a second bedroom to be an office. The price is decent too." She bit her lip when tears threatened. "I need to go now before I get too settled, before it gets even harder to leave." Her heart broke when his face fell.

"If you like it so much, I want you to take it." Sadness flowed through his tone, but his eye held understanding. "I'll bring my work over to your place when I can and come see you at night, even if it's just for an hour. You can come over whenever you wish, even if it's the middle of the night and you're scared. Stevens and I will come get you."

Then he looked a little nervous. "Don't think I'm a stalker, but when you left in February, your landlord called me because you left everything behind. I threw it all in storage - "

"You did?!" A smile split her face so wide it hurt. She flung her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. "I don't have to buy a sofa or bed or anything?"

"No," he chuckled. Then he took her hand and pulled her into his bedroom. He opened the door of his nightstand and handed her a ratty stuffed bear. "I saw him on your bed and couldn't leave him in storage. He's so worn that he looked like he's very important."

"Chocolie," she said and slowly took him in her arms. His dark brown fur had balled up and lost it's shine over the years, and he only had one eye left. Most of his stuffing had fallen out of his armpit hole over the years. Her face crumpled and voice quivered. "I named him that when I was two because I couldn't say 'Chocolate.'"

"A perfect name," he smiled and touched the bear's limp arm.

"Dad brought him to the hospital when I was born. I had to be in the NICU the first couple days because I wasn't breathing strong enough on my own. Mom said I was in one of those air pressurized bassinetts, so they couldn't hold me. So Dad gave me this bear to cuddle. Mom had to have a hysterectomy because the bleeding wouldn't stop, so Dad gave the bear to her if he was with me and the bear to me if he was with her so we each wouldn't be alone if one of the relatives wasn't there. He would give him a hug to give us." Tears slipped down her face.

His arm slipped around her and his other rubbed her belly that she hadn't realized she'd been holding from the cramps. "After that many hugs, I imagine there are still some left in there from your father," he said, his voice so gentle and soft.

She burst into tears, holding him and Chocolie tight. "Do you know what I'd tell Dad if he was here?"

"What, angel?" He brushed away her tears with a handkerchief, stroking her hair as she rested her head on his chest.

"He said he prayed every day after I was born for me to be happy. When I grew up, he prayed every day for me to find love. After Gaston, he said he prayed every day and every night for me to be safe." She leaned back in his arms and held his eye. "If he was here, I'd tell him that God finally heard."

He pressed his lips together and tears glistened in his eye. Guiding her head down to rest on his chest, he cradled her close to his heart.

* * *

The dear man remained upbeat and excited for her as she prepared to move the next day, even when she'd start to cry at the thought of leaving.

He sat beside her on the floor of her new living room, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, surrounded by boxes that Friday night. "Next time, you're not taking a third floor place when it's eighty degrees out," he panted after hauling the dresser and sofa up the stairs with the movers. He pulled off the ski mask and dropped it on the floor. He coughed a couple times.

"Thank you. You didn't have to help." His hand burned hot when she touched it to see if he overheated himself. It was unusually warm out for spring. She got up, bumped up the air conditioner, and grabbed him a bottle of water out of the kitchen. "Do you need to shower to cool down? I bleached it down." Then she walked back over, keeping her eyes diverted. "Here, go drink some water. I don't have straws. You're way too overheated." She sat on his left. His face glistened with sweat and flushed quite red. "You shouldn't be wearing that mask, Jay. It's too hot out. Get in the shower, and I'll wash your clothes for when you go home."

"Thanks." He disappeared into the bathroom, coughing a couple times again, a little too eager to escape.

She started filling the washer with water, drumming her fingers on the machine while waiting for him to toss his clothes out the door. It was dinnertime and at least an hour until his clothes would be ready. Maybe pizza would be easy enough for him to eat if they ordered in. Stevens was going to return at nine to pick him up.

The shower still hadn't turned on. The bathroom door handle rattled, a frantic movement to it. Something was wrong. She darted around a box and over to it, whipping open the door. He almost plowed into her, wheezing severely.

Grabbing his arm, she pulled him down to sit. Her hands shook. He half collapsed, his nailbeds and mouth turning blue. His inhaler. He had to have brought it along. He was trying to reach in his right front pocket, his movements growing clumsy from lack of air. Shit, his shoulders hunched up in one of the body's last attempts to get air. Jamming her hand in the pocket, she grabbed a cylindrical vial and pulled it out. She shook it, tossed aside the cap, and then held it to his mouth. Without giving it a second thought, she slapped a hand over the right side of his face to seal where his lip was missing. "One, two, three." She pumped and he inhaled as best he could. Again. Then she scrambled to the sink and turned it on as hot as possible.

Hurrying back over to him, she got under his left arm. His breathing only sounded marginally better. Adrenaline kicked in full force, and she somehow managed to help pull him to his feet. She stumbled to the sink with him where the water steamed. He leaned his arms down on the counter, seeming to know he needed to breathe in the steam to calm his airways. Then she rubbed his shoulders and neck hard, forcing his muscles to relax and stop making the attack worse. Another few seconds, and he started coughing again. That must be a good sign that he had enough air to cough. "Can you have the inhaler again?"

He nodded.

She grabbed it off the counter, and he administered it himself this time. She kept her eyes diverted from the mirror but continued the hard massage.

After another minute, he pushed himself upright and shut off the water. He still panted, his breathing wheezy a little bit. "Sorry," he rasped, his voice almost nonexistent.

She dropped her hands and looked at his left profile. "There's nothing to be sorry about." Her eyes searched his face. "Do you need to go to a doctor?"

He shook his head and looked so humiliated. "Did you..." His voice faded out, so he pointed a finger at his face.

Throwing up her hands, she scowled. "Really? You almost suffocated to death, and you're worried about that?" She folded her arms over her chest. "I should look in the damn mirror and get it over with." Such incredible panic crossed his face that she instantly regretted the words. "No, I didn't see. Well, I probably did, but I was in such a panic that I didn't pay attention. The same for touching your face." She started to march out but then spun around and marched back, pointing a finger at him. Nevermind that she had to look up a foot and he weighed twice as much, she still trembled from being scared and he deserved to get his head bitten off for it. "And you're going to teach me what the hell triggers your attacks and what to do during them! You're lucky that I got bored and looked it up online when you were gone testifying for that trial! You're lucky that it worked, and I'm not here getting walked through how to do a tracheotomy with a pen via 911!"

He cocked an eyebrow like she was being melodramatic.

"Shut up!" Tears gathered in her eyes now that it was over, and she pushed on his arm when he tried to comfort her. "Don't touch me. I love you, you big idiot! Don't scare me like that again."

The man held back an understanding smile, as if he knew how shaken up she was.

Then she walked out and slammed the door, her hands still shaking. She stopped in the hall and furiously brushed at her eyes.

The door opened and strong arms wrapped around from behind. "Thank you," he rasped. "I love you too."

Even though he was sweaty and smelled like a man at the gym, she held him tight. "You're staying the night in case you relapse," she ordered.

"Stevens or Ms. Van Hoodie can check - "

"No." She pressed her cheek against his chest. "They won't watch you as closely." She locked her hands together behind his back.

"You'll do better?" His voice grated rough over her ears.

She nodded, needing to see for herself throughout the night that he was alright. "You're most likely to have an attack again within twenty four hours. I'm staying in the same room as you so you can wake me up if it happens again."

"It was the exertion, heat, and humidity that caused it, but alright." Something in his manner said he was willing to accept the babying and placate her.

She held him tighter. Nothing had ever felt quite so good in her arms.


	29. Chapter 29

She woke up in his bed the next morning, with her back aching a bit yet from cramps. Prince trotted in with a mouthful of socks, swinging by her side of the bed to show off his treasures. Then he wagged his tail and wandered over to Jason's side and plopped on the floor. She glanced at the clock. Half past nine. With a careful peek in case he didn't have the mask on, she rolled over. He laid on his right side facing away. The poor man must be exhausted to not have gotten up early to put on the mask.

She rubbed her eyes, weary with exhaustion yet from his one o'clock asthma attack that had made them leave the apartment and come here. There had to be some kind of allergen or something at the apartment to have caused the worst attacks he'd ever had.

She yawned and cuddled up to his heat. Vague dreams surfaced from last night - dreams of trying to make shape of his burned face, as if her subconscious tried to make her remember.

He stirred and stretched.

She draped an arm over his ribs from behind. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Tired."

"Do you need more medicine? Your voice is still rough."

"In a minute." He started to roll over to cuddle.

She slipped out of bed and around to the nightstand. "No, now." Keeping her eyes downcast from his face, she handed him the inhaler and didn't move to get back in bed.

He sighed, which sent him into a coughing fit that seemed to be preludes to his attacks. He sat up so she could only see his left profile and took the inhaler. She climbed back in bed while he used it so he wouldn't feel like she babysat. However, she sat tense, ready to give another emergency steroid injection like last night. Picking up the stethoscope on her nightstand, she listened to his back, now familiar with what sounds were the asthma. The wheezing resolved. He laid down and reached to pull her down too.

Prince caused this attack. The allergens from the apartment probably congregated in his fur. She shot out of bed. "Prince! Come!" She clapped her hands and ran out. Prince was only too happy to play chase and zoomed down the stairs after her to the front door. "Pete!"

He stepped out of the kitchen with Trudy, both of them wide-eyed with apparent shock at seeing her in a nightgown.

"Can you wash Prince? Trudy, vaccum the house. Jason had another attack when Prince came in." She grabbed Prince's sock and threw it out the door. Prince shot out after it.

"Ah! I'll wash the floors too, Saints in a can! Hurry! Hurry!" Trudy ran to the closet with arms waiving.

She darted upstairs.

Jason sat up in bed with the half mask on and a frown. "What is all the racket?" His voice streamed out almost normal.

"You're allergic to something on Prince from the apartment. Pete is washing him and Trudy is vacuuming the house." She sat on the bed beside him and froze. He held a syringe.

He looked a bit sheepish. "I sort of forgot about the allergy injections when I went to California."

She stared. "You _sort of_ forgot. How often are you supposed to get them?"

"Every two weeks," he mumbled.

"What?!" She screeched. "You've gone five or six weeks without them? So last night probably wouldn't have happened?"

He had the brains to not answer that.

"I can't believe you." She grabbed the alcohol wipe in his lap and ripped it open with excessive force. "You're a freaking doctor and literally a genius and don't remember to take meds that you could die without. Unbelievable." She sat back with the wipe, rolled her eyes, and threw it in the air. "Good. I'm so mad I didn't wash my hands first." She marched to the bathroom.

"I can do it."

She walked back out with clean hands and got another wipe out of his bag. "I can do it," she huffed.

"Are you truly angry with me?" Worry wrinkled his brow.

"Lord knows I should be, but you caused yourself enough trouble last night." She opened the wipe and sat on the bed. "Where?"

He turned and pointed to his left arm above the bicep. "Pinch so it's not an intramuscular injection."

"How can you do this yourself?" She frowned and cleaned the site.

"Stevens usually does it."

She gave him a look, not in the best mood yet. "I'm your girlfriend - I get first dibs on helping you."

"On sticking me?" He cracked a smile. "You might be happy that you get to do it three times a week for awhile because I missed several doses."

"That's not funny." She pinched his skin up. "Like this?"

He looked. "Yes. The needle goes all the way in."

She gritted her teeth and slid in the needle on the first attempt, pulling the plunger back to make sure it hadn't knicked a vessel.

"Emma?"

She slowly injected but glanced at him. Sadness and tenderness reflected in his eye.

"You didn't need to do any of this the past twelve hours."

Something in his voice seemed so vulnerable. "I wanted to, Jay." She withdrew the syringe and pressed a gauze over the site, rubbing a bit to seal in the serum.

He took it to cap himself, like he did last night too so she wouldn't stick herself with a dirty needle. Then he set it on the nightstand and turned to her. "I know." His hands slipped into hers as he looked into her eyes. "Last night was the first time I turned to someone for help rather than try to hide and handle it myself." A small, embarrassed smile touched his lips. "In the washroom was the worst and fastest an attack has ever happened, and I forgot about the inhaler - my first thought was to get to you."

That melted her heart. "That's how it should be." Her fingers trailed down the side of his face, relishing in the smoothness of his skin and prickliness of his five o'clock shadow. When he looked away for a moment, seeming a bit nervous to open up, she leaned forward and brushed a kiss over his lips. "Tell me what you're thinking. I see a thousand thoughts running through your mind, but I can't hear what they are," she whispered against his lips and sat back.

His lips parted a hair, but it took a moment before he said anything. "I'm not afraid that you do it out of duty."

She frowned. Not exactly his usual soft words.

"My ex would've done it without a complaint, but I would've been ashamed and emasculated and...would've felt so broken. I've felt those before with you because I was afraid that's what you would think. But last night and just now I didn't feel any of that."

That broke her heart. "Oh, Jay." She cupped his face. "Never be afraid that I'll think you're less of a man because of anything. I think you're more of a man because you suffer all of these health problems as a result of saving people. These health things make me protective because I don't want you to hurt or feel ill or have a hard time doing something. Never mistake that protectiveness for pity." Tears stung her eyes. "I could feel that you weren't pulling away like you have other times." When his lips pressed together and tears gathered in his eye, her tears welled. "What's wrong?"

His face crumpled as he fought the tears. "Do you...do you remember seeing my face?" His voice broke.

The tears fell as she shook her head. Why was he so terrified? "I had dreams last night, but your entire face was a blur like I couldn't figure it out. That's all I remember. You don't have to be scared that I saw."

A tear dropped from his lashes. "You did, Emma." His lip quivered. "And you didn't give it a second thought. In the next instant, you touched my face so I could use the inhaler. You saw and touched it, but acted like it was nothing."

"Because there is nothing to react to like you think." Ever so slowly, she reached up with her left hand to touch the mask. He tensed. At the last moment before her fingers brushed the mask, he turned his head away and dropped his eye to the bed. The rejection stung, but it was still so early in their relationship. He still needed to learn to trust her. "Your face is not an 'it.' Your face is beautiful because your face is part of you. And I love everything about you."

He swallowed hard and said in a thick voice, "Do you know that before you came, I could count on one hand the times I've cried." A whisp of a smile danced on his lips.

She smiled and brushed at her eyes. "It's good for you." He seemed to be at his limit for opening up, almost needing to lighten the mood. But a bit of a wall went up around his heart too. If he could be so open, she should too. Biting her lip with a shy smile, she opened her mouth. He wouldn't mind giving another cramps massage. "Jaaay?"

A laugh burst out of him, lighting up his tired face. He coughed into his arm a couple times, but the asthma remained at bay. "You already know you're going to get what you want if you say it like that." He smiled. "What, sweetheart?"

This playful side of the relationship held things together as much as the serious side, and she loved it. She climbed up on the bed and straddled his knees, leaning her hands down on his thighs. "My tummy is still kinda cramping." With a playful smile, she bowed her head a bit and gave him big eyes.

He chuckled and held out his arms. "You practiced that on your father, didn't you? You have that look down pat. If you asked for a trillion dollar house like that, I'd probably buy it for you. And be in debt for the next ten lifetimes. I quiver to think what you'll convince me to do with that look."

She climbed into his lap, and he lifted the blankets for her. Slipping her hand behind to stroke him for just an instant, pleased when he gasped and she had his body's instant attention. She frowned and reclined against his chest, trapping his arousal. "Liar. You aren't all aquiver."

His hand slipped under the blankets to massage her belly through her nightgown. "Minx. Serves you right to be poked in the back." A smile in his voice softened his words. His other hand squeezed her hip, releasing some of the tension coiled in her muscles.

Turning her head to rest a cheek against his muscular chest that cradled her head just right, she closed her eyes. "Your lungs sound better."

"I'm not concerned about my lungs right now," he growled, his voice rumbling throughout his chest. His hand left her hip and traveled up to massage her tender breasts.

She sighed, almost half asleep as he worked the aches from her body. "Clearly. You're more concerned about stripping me completely naked in your bed and touching me in whatever way you please while I moan and beg you for more." The poor man shouldn't be tormented after his rough night, but his superb response and his hands tightening on her breasts for restraint made it impossible to keep quiet. "Mmmm. I do like that, Jay. When you take me, grab my breasts like that. God, you're going to be a good lover." She grasped his hands to squeeze tighter, the deep pressure so wonderful in fading away the ache.

"Oh god, Emma," he panted, his arousal pressing into her back like a rock. His heart thundered fast under her ear.

Keeping her eyes closed, she stroked his arm. "Shhhh. You need to be quiet today so you don't have another attack." This world between consciousness and slumber was so calming.

"Then stop taunting me. I'm not a saint, Em." He growled deep in his chest, and his hands ran up and down her sides from her hips to breasts.

A breathy sigh whisped out of her throat, and she draped her arms under his to hold onto the back of his shoulders, offering him full access to her breasts. "I love it when you growl. Do you want to know what I fantasize about, Jay?" she purred, her eyes still closed in relaxation from his full body massage. His arousal started to wake her up and made her bold.

"Oh god, no, I don't." The poor man groaned in agony. He certainly seemed well endowed, if the pressure against her back was any indication.

"You come home and need me so bad that you don't say anything. You stalk across the room and tear our clothes off, in such a fever that you arouse me by telling me how much you have to have me. Then you throw me down on the bed or couch." He breathed hard. "Your aggression has me wet, but you check with your hand just to make sure while you kiss me." His body started to coil. "Then you claim me hard and fast, Jay."

"Oh god," he gasped and jerked a hand between them, his body fighting for release and tightening around her. He breathed hard, having pulled himself from the edge just in time. His forehead rested on her shoulder. "Emma, stop before he have to get married tonight. I'm so hard it hurts."

She sat up to remove the physical contact from his arousal. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you hurt." She looked over her shoulder to see his eye squeezed shut. He kept firm pressure on himself, as if holding back the pleasure with sheer force. Something to get his mind off it. Or stop the arousal. "Um, um, your mom naked." She snorted a laugh in shock and her hands flew to her mouth.

His eye shot open. "What? Ew! Emma!" His hand let go and so did his body's attention.

"What? It worked." She rolled off with laughter and got up.

"You're sick, you know that? You're going to get such major payback when your cramps are gone." He got up with surprising speed.

She squealed and ran out the door. His footsteps pounded behind, and he coughed a little. "You shouldn't run today!" When she rounded the corner, his footsteps didn't follow. She looked over her shoulder and slowed down. Her smile died when he didn't come. Her heart beat faster. Maybe he started having an attack. "Jay?" She ran back and turned the corner.

"Boo!" He popped out in her face with a smile.

She screamed and spun around to escape.

He caught her arm with a laugh and pulled her back against his chest. She squirmed and laughed too hard to speak, only making him laugh more. Slipping a hand under his arm, she tickled. When he yelped in surprise, she giggled and broke free. "You're it!" Then she took off around the corner, barely missing running into Trudy.

When he came just a step behind, he plowed right into the woman. He grabbed Trudy's shoulders and stumbled, managing to keep them upright.

She stopped. They both seemed alright. But her smile died when she looked at his face.

He straightened, serious at the flip of a switch even though he stood there barefoot and shirtless. "My apologies, Ms. Van Hoodie."

Trudy stared with her mouth open, the vaccum in one hand and the cord in the other. "Are you _playing_ , Dr. Port? I've never heard you laugh so much, don'tcha know."

"No. I was taking Ms. Hoplin to her room. I must attend to some work," he said, looking directly at her now. He turned to go.

She cocked her head at his blatant lie and sudden change of manner. "Yes, we were playing tag. And he should play tag." She stuck her chin out.

He spun around, his face none too pleased.

Trudy's mouth dropped farther, if possible.

With a smile, she bounced over and grabbed his arm to tug him back down his hall if he was too embarrassed to chase her in front of Trudy. "You're it, Jay."

He didn't budge. "Get dressed, Ms. Hoplin. The morning is growing late." Then he turned and disappeared into his room, shutting the door.

She stared. He seemed angry when just a moment ago he'd been laughing.

"Jesus would make it my business if He wanted. I won't say a word, but for his sake, don't tell anyone you're...havin' monkey business." When she blinked, Trudy whispered, "Havin' relations." Then her voice resumed normal levels. "He'd be ashamed for people to assume no one wants to marry him and he's getting pitty...frisking."

Her mouth dropped. "We aren't having sex!"

Trudy covered her ears. "None of my business, don'tcha know."

She jerked Trudy's arm down. "Is that what people think? That we're having sex, and I won't marry him."

Trudy bit her lip. "I shouldn't say nothin' because Dr. Port doesn't like gossip, don'tcha know. But the townsfolk saw you in his car a couple times with him. They think he's been keeping you prisoner and seduces you." The woman's face burned. "They say you're so beautiful and he's so ugly is why he wants you." She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with her apron. "He doesn't like to go into town anymore because of it. I suppose he was ashamed just now that I'd add to the gossip, so he acted all gruff and disinterested in you. It's Jesus's place to judge, not mine, but don't worry about a thing. Dr. Port will be honorable and do right by you." Trudy patted her hand and continued down the hall.

She stared at his door, and her heart sank. He was talking about marriage to save her reputation with strangers?

A few minutes later after getting dressed, she marched back to his room. It was empty. So she marched downstairs. He sat at his desk in his usual attire, including the suit jacket even though it was Saturday. She slammed the door shut and stormed over, pointing a finger at the ground. "You're talking about marriage because the town thinks you're screwing me?!"

He sat back with all the patience in the world, the pen still in his hand on the desk. "I'm not 'screwing' you - you're not a bottle. And no, I'm not going to weave our lives around gossip. A bit more formality around here wouldn't hurt anyone, however. I do not question Stevens or Ms. Van Hoodie keeping matters private, but I will not have staff wonder about your honor or stare at your belly to see if a wedding is coming."

His sudden formality hurt, even though he meant well...kind of. He had a wall slowly building since finding out she didn't recall seeing his face. He'd been so at peace thinking she'd seen his face but hadn't reacted. Now he shoved her away as a knee-jerk reaction. It would only last for awhile, but that didn't mean he shouldn't know it hurt all the same. She leaned her hands on the desk. "There are times when I want to burn that goddamn mask, Dr. Port. If I didn't think you'd hate me forever, I would."

His eye narrowed, so obviously trapped between fear and the desire for freedom. "If you have no care for your own reputation, then it's left to me to care for, Ms. Hoplin. No more nights in the same room - "

Panic surged up. With three nights until the trial, the nightmares would come full force. And he knew that. She shoved down the fear and hurt as hard as possible. "I didn't realize you didn't want me to come last night." THe words didn't come out as strong as intended, but more as a choked statement. When he didn't say anything, she walked out and shut the door.

Pete walked in with Prince, who was wet from his bath.

"Thanks for washing him. Can you take me home?" She swallowed down the tears.

He looked at her in suprise, but seemed to take in her mood and nodded.

She sat in the front seat with him while Prince sat on a towel in the back.

"It's none of my business, but lover's spats will happen. He doesn't know you left, does he?" He glanced at her.

Turning her attention out the window, she said, "I think he does, he just didn't want to outright tell me to go."

"If I may be frank, he doesn't talk to me much, but I hear him talk to Trudy when he's upset. Some of the townsfolk are creating gossip about you and him, and he's very upset what they're doing to your reputation."

"Reputations aren't as important as a hundred years ago either. We shouldn't gossip about him, Pete."

"Yes, ma'm."

"Don't 'ma'm' me."

"Dr. Port asked Trudy and I to be more respectful to you."

Of course he did.


	30. Chapter 30

At the apartment, she used her phone to scan and email the FBI contract to Agent Olin. Then she called the apartment office. Perhaps a cat or some animal had previously lived in the apartment that caused Jason's allergies.

"No, but there is a flowering tree outside your window," the office manager said. "We're thinking of having it cut down because several tenants complain it causes them severe allergies too. We have three co-owners, so it might take a couple months to get it cut down. I'll look into it."

"Thank you so much."

A few minutes later, Olin emailed.

 _Ms. Hoplin,_

 _As you know, some exams need to be completed before I can deliver your first assignment. I have a case I'd like you to look into as soon as possible. Would you be available to fly out to Virginia tonight for exams tomorrow and Monday? We'll have you to Chicago Monday night for the trial on Tuesday. We'll talk Wednesday and you can have the case files by Thursday._

 _Max Olin_

Being around Jason right now would undoubtedly cause problems. Taking the exams would help pass the time until the trial, and the paychecks needed to start coming to pay for the apartment.

 _Agent Olin,_

 _Yes, I can come out tonight. Let me know logistics._

 _Emma_

He sent the information and a ticket for a plane that departed in less than three hours.

She grabbed her phone and called Pete.

"Stevens."

"Pete, do you mind turning around? I have to leave for work tonight, and Prince needs somewhere to stay until Wednesday." She bit her lip. He wouldn't like this part. "The apartment office said it might be the tree Jason is allergic to, so Prince might need a bath again."

He grumbled.

"I'll pay you - "

"No, I just hate wet dog smell. Does Dr. Port know he's coming?"

"Well...no. I called you so you didn't get too far away."

"You're calling him. I'm not breaking the news that he's dogsitting. I'll be back in ten minutes."

She packed as fast as possible, and Pete insisted on giving a ride to the airport that was a half hour away.

When she called Jason, it went straight to voicemail, thankfully. "Olin asked me to fly out for the preliminary work exams, so I'm at the airport. I stuck Pete with Prince. The office manager for the apartment said it's probably the tree outside the building you're allergic too, so Pete is going to wash Prince down again. I'll be back probably Wednesday to get Prince. I sent food along. Thanks." No reply came before she had to turn off the phone on the plane. A little bit of relief swept through to not have to talk to him, but also a little bit of hurt that after an hour he still hadn't responded. Perhaps he needed time to cool off and didn't want to talk either.

It was nearly ten o'clock by the time she arrived at the hotel, checked for bed bugs, cleaned the bathroom for diseases like Jason would've, and showered. Then she dropped into bed. Half way to slumberland, she jerked awake. She had to text Mom that she was on the East Coast, and set an alarm for the morning.

Within a few seconds of turning on the phone, it beeped several times with five missed phone calls, two voicemails, and two text messages. She sighed and played the first voicemail.

"Emma, I got your voicemail, but there was so much static it didn't come through. Stevens showed up with Prince and said he dropped you at the airport for your job and you're not coming back until Wednesday. Call me, Em. I know I was a jerk, but you shouldn't be alone at night these next couple nights or go to the trial alone. I love you." In his second voicemail and the texts, he seemed even more distressed.

With a sigh, she clenched her teeth and dialed to get it over with. Being held tonight with all of the stress and the guaranteed nightmares sounded wonderful. But talking to him would break open the homesickness and hurt feelings that needed to be shoved down until after the trial.

"Emma? Where are you? Are you alright?" He sounded like he'd been going crazy with worry.

"I'm fine. Olin wanted me out here to get the exams done by Monday night. I probably won't really have time to talk, so I'll be back on Wednesday and can get Prince out of your hair."

"Em, don't shove me away. I know I was an ass and completely blindsided you, and I'm sorry. I didn't think about it that you're going to have nightmares the next few nights with the trial. That and these exams the next couple days are going to be so stressful, and you shouldn't be alone. I'll stay at the hotel so I don't get in the way and just be there at night in case you have nightmares. Where are you, Emma?" He practically begged.

She swallowed down the tears. "It's good for me to not be reliant on a man and be self-sufficient - "

"God, Emma, not like this. This is not the time or way to prove that to yourself. Remember the nightmares? They're going to come back. You're in a strange environment without even the dog. If you meet a lot of men tomorrow, you're going to get stressed. I swear I won't say a word the whole time if you don't want."

Her heart pounded fast. He was right. But she could do this. All she'd do is fight with him if he came right now anyways. "I survived the last trial without you, and it was far worse," she snapped. She didn't need him in order to get through this. She didn't need him to hold her and chase away the monsters at night. She didn't need him to promise the exams would go alright and say she could do this.

"Emma, I'm sorry. Why are you doing this?"

Because it hurt what he did, but mostly because the never-ending fear needed to die, even if it took horrific nightmares to prove to herself that she could do this. She couldn't walk into that courtroom as terrified of Gaston as she was at this minute. Facing the nightmares alone, she'd have no choice but to teach herself Gaston wasn't as big of a vicious monster as he'd grown to be in her dreams.

"Please, Emma. Where are you? Frank said he can't tell me, and Olin won't answer my messages. There's nothing weak or wrong about needing someone," he begged, sounding like he was climbing the walls.

"Stop worrying. I'm fine. 'Night."

"Emma!"

She hung up and burst into tears, so terrified to go to sleep. The demons had stayed away with Jason near. Tonight, though, they'd come for her.

The phone chirped with a text.

 _Please. I'm begging you. Don't torture yourself. Let me come. I love you. It was a stupid fight that I regret._

She silenced the phone and laid down with the light on. Five times she woke herself up screaming from nightmares.

* * *

The exams were brutal, the interviews even worse, and the polygraph test the final straw from operating on basically no sleep.

Agent Olin sat in the room out of view while another man hooked her up for the polygraph. Her heart thundered being so close to a strange man - her nerves on the verge of breaking from being enclosed in rooms all day with strange men for interviews. When the man bumped her breast while hooking the wire around her chest, she jerked hard from nerves being wound so tight. A deep breath didn't help calm her nerves. Oh god, locked in a room with two men and basically strapped into a chair...Jason was right that she couldn't do this. The exhaustion compounded the stress, the panic. This must be what it felt like to literally go insane.

"Alright, Ms. Hoplin. I'll ask some questions to get a baseline reading. Tell the truth until I tell you to lie." The man sat down behind her at the computer. "Is your name Emma Hoplin?"

"Yes."

"Are you age 30?"

"Yes."

"Lie for this one. Are you age 37?"

"Yes."

He paused, giving the distinct feeling that something wasn't right. "Lie again. Is your name Jane Doe?"

"Yes."

Oh god, she wanted to throw up.

"Tell the truth. Are you a male?"

"No."

Agent Olin stepped over to her and looked down. "Are you doing alright? There's no distinction in readings between truth and a lie." He frowned. "Your vitals are all over the place."

Admitting she couldn't hold herself together was a sure way to get fired before even starting the job.

"Can I have a minute and walk around?"

"Of course." His eyes bore into her as the other man removed the straps.

She paced the empty hall, her hands shaking. Just two more hours for the polygraph and then that would be it for the day. The hardest parts with the interviews and exams were done. Or maybe the polygraph would be brutal. Oh god. She leaned against the wall and took deep breaths. Stuck in the room with two men... She jerked upright to pace again, shoving aside the thought.

"You look like hell. Tell me what's going on?"

She jumped ten feet to hear Agent Olin's voice behind her and spun around. "Nothing. I just didn't sleep much last night."

"You forget I'm trained to detect lies." He folded his hands behind his back, the lines of his face indicating displeasure at being lied to.

Closing her eyes, she took a steadying breath. Working for the FBI had been nice while it'd lasted...the whole eighteen hours. She held his glare. "With the trial looming, I had intense nightmares last night and slept maybe a couple hours total."

He didn't even blink. "Your vitals shot through the roof when I closed the door. Your fear of men is intense."

She swallowed hard in humiliation but didn't look away. A man like him wouldn't tolerate weakness - and she'd just admitted to being as damn weak as they came.

"Did Jason come with you?"

"No, sir."

"No?" His dark eyebrows shot up.

"Contrary to what everyone thinks, I don't have to have a man hold my hand."

"Clearly, or you wouldn't be here. I read your file from our psych therapist, as well as your therapist back home. It took a lot of balls to come out here before the trial and alone. Not wise, but ballsy. I expected you to say you couldn't come until after Tuesday. To be honest, your exam and interview scores aren't as high as I expected, but they do show impressive performance given the high stress you're under. Let's see how you can do with the polygraph. Tomorrow we'll repeat a handful of the exams and see if you score better."

Why would they be better? The day before the trial? Any sleep tonight would be a luxury. Her eyebrows shot up. "I can tell you right now that scores tomorrow will be worse."

He walked back to the room, as if she hadn't even spoken.

She followed, dragging her heart along on the floor. He as much as said she was failing the exams. No point in putting off the inevitable. Getting fired couldn't get much more humiliating than this.

Olin and the other man stood outside the door. "Go on in. We'll be right there," Olin said.

After the polygraph, another interview, a physical, and a drug test, Olin put her in a cab to the hotel at six o'clock.

She dragged her feet going down the hall. The monsters waited in that room - waited for her to close her eyes so they could sink their fangs in and feast on her screams. Another horrific night waited. Maybe tomorrow night, the exhaustion from not sleeping in three days would knock her out.

The dreams weren't real - she'd prove it to her mind. But dear god, they seemed real. The rape happened over and over every time she closed her eyes, and it even caused physical pain during the dreams. In one dream, she'd screamed herself awake when he started chopping her up with the knife. It had to be better tonight. Everyone said to face your fears. She had last night. But tonight wouldn't be better. The stress would compound the intensity of the dreams, as she'd learned from the last trial. She couldn't call Jason or she'd break down in sobs and beg him to come. She had to do this alone. The monsters had to wear out their welcome one of these nights. Tomorrow she'd get fired, Tuesday was the trial, and Wednesday she'd be back home and had to deal with the fight with Jason. Her hands shook and tears ran down her face having to go back in the room again. The Torture Room. She opened the hotel door and stopped in her tracks.

Jason stood near the door with a bouquet of a dozen yellow roses that symbolized an apology. "I'm so sorry, Emma. Olin called this afternoon and said where you were. You can curse me to Hell and back, but I'm not leaving you to get through the next two days on your own."

The purse slipped down her shoulder and thudded on the floor. The fear, the pain, the isolation, the evil...it all fled the room, frightened by the love and strength and warmth he'd brought instead.

Tears welled in her eyes. It couldn't be. Her voice quivered. Her body trembled. "Jason?" He strode toward her, closing the distance. His warm, gentle embrace closed around her, and his hand cupped the back of her head to cradle on his shoulder.

"You can do this, Emma," he whispered. "You fought the demons long enough by yourself. I don't question if you can do this alone, because I know you can. But you don't have to anymore, sweetheart. I want to be your protector, Em. Let me rescue you like you rescue me. No matter what we're fighting about, I'm always going to be here for you."

She burst into tears and held him tight. "I love you."

"I love you too, angel."


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: For those of who don't have English as a first or second language and might have trouble reading Jason's accent, I translated it into American English in brackets.**

* * *

She stood in the bathroom the next morning, almost rejuvenated except for the looming trial tomorrow. Her hair would not cooperate for a French twist that always worked within thirty seconds when it was just for at home. Ten minutes until the taxi would be here. Today she would get fired. Her stomach threatened to lose breakfast.

Jason appeared to the right in the mirror and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh huh." She took the clip from between her teeth and snapped it into her hair. "I think I fell asleep on you before supper." The clip fell and her hair cascaded down. "Dammit," she whispered and started over.

He stepped up, sweeping up the long locks with care to not pull any strands. "You're going to do fine, sweetheart. My mother liked her long hair up like that for work, so I helped her when I was little." He glanced at her in the mirror.

The new rules of no sleepovers after tomorrow night, unless if she had a nightmare or one of them was very sick, were good. The rules would help avoid temptation, but at the same time it was hard losing that physical closeness of cuddling in bed. He had been right, though, that she turned toward sex to avoid dealing with other things. Moments like this had the chance to happen more now.

His large hands moved with grace and care, not once tugging a strand too hard. It looked a bit funny - such a big, masculine man doing hair. But that's what made it so endearing too.

It took him a couple tries before her hair started to cooperate. He glanced in the mirror. "Is any of this stress from our discussion last night? You can always call if you have a nightmare, and I will come. It's not a stringent rule, love."

She shook her head.

He clipped her hair, as smoothed out and professional looking as if done at a salon. Then he stepped between her and the counter and took her hands. His heart laid wide open on his sleeve, and his eye held such tender love. "You mean everything to me, and I don't want to be the reason anyone ever treats you with disrespect. The gossip in town should die if they see you coming and going more."

Biting her lip, the desire to burrow into his arms and hide from the next couple days rose up. "I can't do this." Tears suddenly welled.

"Yes, you can." He picked up her purse on the counter and handed it over. Then he set a hand on her lower back and pushed her toward the door. "You're intelligent and strong. You will kick ass."

"Get my ass kicked, you mean. This has to be a record for the shortest FBI job ever." She opened the door.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back in, holding her by the shoulders. The door fell shut. "If you think that, you _will_ get fired. The FBI came after _you_ for a job. You've got this, Emma. You're going to whiz through the exams and make their jaws drop at how awesomely intelligent you are."

That won a small smile. "Awesomely? I never pictured you as a man to say that."

He grinned, obviously trying to get her to laugh. "You're going to come back tonight, and we're going to celebrate, Agent Hoplin." He brushed a kiss over her lips and held her close.

"It'd be a contract finance position, not an agent." Her arms slipped around his neck. Dread bubbled in her stomach.

"One day you will be a regular employee. Maybe even Agent Port by then." He wiggled his eyebrow.

She smiled. "Who says I'm taking your name. It's the twenty first century, you know."

A devilish grin curled his lips, and his hands traveled down to cup her bottom. "You're as traditional as I am." He brushed a kiss over her lips again. "God help me, these black pants hold your bottom as hard as I want to." He gave a squeeze. "Did I mention I love your tight little arse?" He flushed, seeming to realize he'd slipped into his accent by the end of the sentence.

With a smile, she gave him a hearty kiss. "About once a week you remind me." Her finger trailed down his cheek. "Did I mention I love having a badass Highlander want me?"

"Do ye now?" He slipped into his full accent and pushed her up against the wall.

She practically melted to the floor.

"Then when ye return ta me this night, Ay'll 'ave ta remember tha', me bonnie lass," he purred, nibbling her ear.

Oh dear heaven, his burr rolled in his chest, somehow deepening his voice and rolling out like smooth caramel. She moaned when his hands slid up under her blouse, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and stopped just below her breasts. The thundering of her heart and her own soft pants filled the silence. His hot kisses branded her neck, sending shivers down her body.

"Ay say fer t' honeymoon we go ta Scotland. Ay'll show ye t' castles. Ay'll take me new bride ta t' rollin' green meadows o' t' Highlands an' lay ye down in t' plushest beds of grass ye've ever felt. There Ay'll make ye me wife, as slow and gentle as t' breezes tha' carress t' hills." [I say for the honeymoon we go to Scotland. I'll show you the castles. I'll take my new bride to the rolling green meadows of the Highlands and lay you down in the plushest beds of grass you've ever felt. There I'll make you my wife, as slow and gentle as the breezes that carress the hills.]

She leaned back in his arms to meet his eye, blinking back the tears. "Truly?" A honeymoon in his country. He must be thinking more and more seriously about marrying.

He searched her face. "Or wherever in t' world ye want."

"I'd like to see Scotland. Show me the town where you grew up." She cupped his cheek.

Pecking a kiss on her lips, he withdrew. "Come, Emma. You'll be late," he smiled.

She locked her hands together around him. Her heart beat faster. Her stomach flipped and spun in knots. "I don't want to go." Her face crumpled. This was like the first day of kindergarten when she'd cried and begged Mom and Dad not to abandon her.

He eased her arms down and took her hand, leading her out to the elevator. "One test at a time. It's worse in your head than it will be, sweetheart. Tonight we'll be celebrating your new job." He pulled her through the lobby and out to the taxi.

The panic slammed. Her heart struggled to beat through the fear, and her body trembled. "No, don't make me go back," she begged and burst into tears, jerking to a halt on the sidewalk. "There's so many strange men, and I'm trapped in a tiny room - "

He gathered her in his arms, his voice cracking, as if it was as hard to send her as it was for her to go. "Shhh, sweetheart, it's going to be alright. These men have had background checks and are safe. If you get a bad gut feeling, Olin is nearby. Frank trusts him, and I trust him from what I've learned from working within the past couple months. I told Olin a bit about your situation. He's gruff, but he does care, Emma. He wouldn't have called me out here if he didn't want you to succeed. I'm not allowed on the FBI grounds, or I'd come wait in the lobby." He started to pry her hands away. "If I come in the cab, it's going to be hard for you to get out." He looked like he struggled to hold back tears.

"No," she begged. He was staying behind. Oh god. She tried to catch his hand to hold on when he opened the cab door. He had to come with. She was going to fall apart in the cab, but he wouldn't make her go in once they arrived if he saw her terror along the way.

He caught her wrists, though, and backed her up into the cab. "It will be harder if I come. I'm not going to let you give up. You would regret this one day, Emma. I wouldn't send you if you wouldn't be safe." He shut the door even though she shook her head in a panic.

She grabbed the handle in blinding fear, but he leaned his hand on the door to keep it shut. She rolled down the window, tears streaming down her face. "Jason - "

He brushed away his own tear and squatted to see her, keeping a hand on the door but staying out of reach. "Gaston does not have this kind of power over you. You're going to walk in that exam room." He pointed at her, his voice strong and eye fierce. "Gaston is going to try to get in your head in that room. Just like you did when he attacked you, you look him in the eye, and you tell him, 'fuck yourself!'" He spat the words, his rage tangible. "Do you hear me, Emma?"

She nodded and sniffled, the fear a little less.

He pointed at her, his voice strong. "He's ruled your life long enough. Fuck him, Emma. You're going to get an awesome job with the frickin' FBI!" He thrust his finger at the cab, his energy growing, surging up. "You're going to be the best damn financial analyst they've seen! You're going to kick Gaston's ass in court! We're going to get married! We're going to have a ton of babies! Dammit, this is gonna be a great day!" He darted forward and planted a hearty kiss on her lips. Then he pulled back and hit the roof of the cab.

The cab took off. She looked out the back window, the tears still flowing but the fear fading away.

He threw his hands in the air. "Go, Emma!" He threw a fist pump, bursting with energy. "You're gonna rock this! Show them, Em!" he shouted, getting farther away. He threw both his hands up in victory. "Go! Whooooo hooooo!" He completely ignored the passing people who stared at him either for his mask or idiocy or both.

His energy was contagious, squashing the fear. She leaned out the window and waved, unable to hold back a smile over the fact that distinguished Dr. Port made a display of himself to be her fan club.

He smiled and waved, looking truly happy to see her relaxing. The crowds of the street swallowed him up. But the man belted out for all he was worth, "I love you, Emma!" It echoed off the buildings and street, bouncing over the bustling of the city.

She laughed. She loved that crazy man.

* * *

During a short break for lunch, she stepped outside the building and pulled out her cell.

 _On lunch. Thank you, Jay. I didn't cry anymore._

His reply came after a moment. _Of course, sweetheart. Are you done?_

 _No, two more exams this afternoon. Then I get fired. Then I'll be back to the hotel._

 _Emma._ His long-winded sigh of exasperation jumped off the screen. _You're going to make a record with your scores. You can do this. Shall I call for a pep talk? I'm like a cheerleader today! :)_

She laughed but tears also blurred everything. _No, I'll cry if I hear you. I'd better go. :) Miss you._

 _Miss you too, love. Is everyone being decent? l:(_

She laughed at his attempt to make a scowl. _Yes, you don't need to come beat anyone up. Bye._

 _Good luck...nevermind, you don't need it. :D I love you. See you in a bit. XO_

The conversation with him brought renewed energy. She walked into the building, a little taller than this morning, her skin a little thicker.

At the end of the day, Agent Olin walked into the room that seemed more like an interrogation room. He sat in the chair opposite of her, his face unreadable. Here it came - getting fired from the FBI before even working on a case. Her heart thundered.

"Ms. Hoplin, I've seen a lot of people take the exams. A few of your scores yesterday were the lowest I've ever seen."

Oh god. She closed her eyes in humiliation but didn't slouch. All the times Jason had been humiliated in front of her in public, he had faced it with grace. He hadn't suffered in vain because he'd taught her how to face humiliation with dignity. She looked Olin in the eye.

"Did you get some sleep last night?"

"Yes. Thank you for calling Jason in too. I'm sorry to have wasted your time - "

He folded his hands on the table. "The exams today are different versions of the ones you took yesterday, but more advanced. Your scores today were high. On one of the exams, it's the highest anyone has scored in the past forty three years."

She blinked.

"We conducted family and friend interviews the last couple days and did a background check. I talked to the team about the interviews. Your CPA license is going to expire in July. Are there any issues with renewing it?"

Wait, what did this have to do with getting fired? "Um, no, I don't believe so."

"It would still be remote, but it would be a salaried position with hours part-time for thirty a week on average. Pay is still what we discussed. Instead of a contract position, we want to extend a six-month probationary offer, at which time you would be eligible for benefits."

Holy shit, he was offering the job! She gripped the edge of the chair to keep from shooting to her feet with a scream of excitement. Wait, not a contract position? "I'm sorry, I think I misunderstood. This isn't a contract position?"

He folded his hands on the table. "Your interviews exceeded expectations, as did your scores today. The woman and six men you interviewed with yesterday and today would be on the same team as a financial analyst. We want you on staff." He held out his hand and stood. "Welcome to the FBI, Emma." He actually smiled.

It took a minute to sink in. She got to her feet and shook his hand, still too shocked to answer.

It was hard to refrain from calling Jason on the way back to the hotel. She ran down the hall and jammed the card in the doorlock scanner. Her heart pounded with excitement. When she burst through, he looked up from where he sat on the bed with work papers scattered all around.

She shut the door and clamped her hands over her mouth. And screamed in excitement.

He shot up with a grin. "You got it?" He froze, as if the magic would break if he moved.

She shook her head. "Six months probation!"

His jaw dropped. "You're permanent?"

Jumping on her toes, she nodded, still covering her mouth to hold back the scream.

"You got it!" He surged forward with a hoot of excitement and hugged her. He spun her around, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Ah! You're a genius! I told you that you could do it! Whoo!"

When he set her down, she leaned back in his arms, her fingers buried in his silky hair. "Thank you, Jay. I would've regretted not going."

He gave a weak laugh. "Good, because I cried making you go. I dread having to send the kids to school." Then he pressed his lips to hers. "I'm so proud of you."

She smiled against his lips. "I love you."

"My girlfriend works at the FBI. That is so hot," he whispered and leaned his forehead against hers. A smile danced on his lips.

Closing her eyes, she pulled off his mask and eased off the gauze with care, not certain how it was taped on. She crushed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck. She loved this man so much. The trial tomorrow no longer seemed like the end of the world. He'd be there, more than capable of pulling her through if she needed him. They could do this. Tomorrow wouldn't break her.

Her tongue dove past his lips, and she stood on her toes to hold him tight. His arms wrapped around, and his tongue brushed hers with equal pressure. Hard, bumpy skin on his lips made contact with hers for the first time as he kissed her without any hesitation. Her heart fluttered. He'd never kissed her straight on before, without a thought about the scars. It would be a short-lived kiss without the gauze or his head tilted to the side, but it was a perfect ending to the day. With a sigh of pleasure, her hands roamed his muscular back as her tongue stroked his. Her mouth covered his, scars and all. Cupping his face in her hands would be so beautifully intimate. It would make him shut down, though, so she only cupped his left jaw. He started to have trouble with his lip. She loved every bit of him, and he needed to believe it. His trouble with kissing didn't matter. She kept the gauze over her fingers to follow his wishes of not having the scars touched. Tilting her head to kiss the other side of his mouth so as not to embarrass him by making a big deal of it, she started to wipe the corner of his mouth for him. Perhaps helping and not letting it interfere with the kiss or be a big deal, he would accept her desire to share his burden. Instead, he jerked away, snatching the gauze and mask from her hands in a heartbeat.

She stumbled forward a step into thin air. When her eyes flew open, he stood across the room with the mask on again.

His chest heaved, either from pleasure or fright, or both. "Don't," he commanded, his eye locked on her and the passion gone.

"I'm sorry." She bit her lip. The heat of his mouth still burned on her lips. "It doesn't bother me. I just..." Her heart broke for him. "It's a burden you carry twenty four - seven, Jason. I wanted to give you relief for even two minutes; two minutes when you don't need to be thinking about it. A kiss where it's you and me, without the tension building in you and calculating how much longer we have until you need to pull away. It's just me, Jason."

The hard glare in his eye softened to a stern gaze. "'Just you' is exactly who matters most to me. I don't want you wiping my drool - "

She frowned. "Jason - "

"Emma," he sighed, almost begged, and closed his eye like so much humiliation weighed down his shoulders. "Stop it."

She stared in shock at his curtness. Today had brought them together by leaps and bounds...until now.

"Don't make me lose that dignity," he said.

Tears stung her eyes. "I didn't mean that. I wouldn't do that to you." Her face crumpled.

He crossed the canyon that separated them and gathered her in his arms. "I know. It just feels like that's what it would be. I didn't mean to snap at you. I wasn't ready for you to do that, and it startled me. I need you to ask me something like that before doing it. Odds are I will say 'no.'"

She clung to him and nodded. "I just love you so much and don't want you to suffer."

He kissed the top of her head. "I know, sweetheart, and that mean so much. Don't cry. I love you."

The soft cotton of his handkerchief dried her tears. "I have a flight to Chicago and need to go in a half hour," she sniffled.

"I took the liberty of getting us a flight together. Your mother is going to pick us up at ten o'clock, and we're staying with her tonight."

She smiled. "Are you inviting yourself over?"

He grinned. "Yes, and I'm crashing on the couch. I reassured your mother that I'll be a gentleman, so if you have nightmares tonight, she said I can sleep on your bedroom floor with the door open."

* * *

"Sweetheart."

She woke up to a large hand gently shaking her shoulder on the plane. Rubbing her eyes and sitting up, she looked around. Everyone was unboarding. "Are we here?"

"Yes, sweetheart." He stood and grabbed their bags from overhead. Slinging one bag over his shoulder and carrying the other in his hand, he held out his free hand to her.

"I'm sorry I slept through the whole ride." She took his hand and let him pull her up.

"You haven't slept well, angel. Forty five minutes and we'll be at your mother's house. A quick shower and then you can sleep." He led the way through the crowd while holding her hand so they didn't get separated.

She smiled and yawned. A shower probably to wash off any head lice or anything picked up on the plane, knowing him.

"Hi, baby!" Her mom cooed at the terminal and engulfed her in a hug. Then her mom turned and hugged Jason. He released her hand just long enough to hug her mom. "Jason, it's good to see you too."

"Hi, Becky. Thank you for picking us up." Then he took her hand again. "Em has some exciting news." He smiled with such pride and turned to her.

She explained the new job on the way to the car.

"Ah! Really?! Oh, your dad would be so proud!" Her mom flung her arms around her again, with tears shimmering.

The grief unexpectedly hit with full force. She looked at Jason over her mom's shoulder and bit her lip to fight back the tears.

He didn't say anything but gave a soft smile of encouragement and put their bags in the trunk. He insisted that she sit in the front with her mom. He must've taken over carrying the conversation because the ride home was a blur from exhaustion.

She sat on the love seat in the livingroom in her nightgown and robe, explaining the job details and new apartment while Jason showered.

"Does he make you feel safe, baby? You say he's good to you, but how safe does he make you feel?" Concern danced in her mom's eyes.

She flushed and held back a shy smile. "I don't have nightmares as often at his home, Mama." She bit her lip, but her mom didn't need to worry even though she wouldn't be happy about this answer. "He's always a gentleman and wants to wait for marriage, but there have been a few times I've slept beside him when the nightmares are bad. They go away when I'm with him, Mama." Tears gathered in her eyes as much as in her mom's. "He chases away the monsters. I forget what it's like to be scared when I'm with him, Mama."

He stepped into the room, keeping his left side to them. "The adhesive tape doesn't stick well right after a shower," he explained and sat on the couch made up as his bed.

"Do you think this apartment is safe too?" her mom asked him, wrinkles of worry marring her brow.

She sighed. "Mom, I said it was good." She got up to turn on the kitchen light and turned off the living room light to give a softer glow so he had some privacy with his face.

"She's just worried, Emma." He gave a soft smile before looking at her mom. He held out a hand for her to sit beside him as he spoke to her mom, sweeping aside the blankets a bit for propriety. "Yes, ma'm. The grounds are well lit, the windows and door are well secured. The entrance into the building has a sturdy lock, and..."

His words faded away as she leaned against his heat and started to drift off.

She jostled a little as strong arms swept her up.

"No, don't wake her. She's had bad nightmares the past few nights and hasn't slept much. I can carry her to bed," Jason's deep voice whispered.

"I'll turn down the covers," her mom whispered.

Cool blankets caressed her skin, and she drifted farther away into dreamland. "I love you, Emma. Sweet dreams," he whispered, and a kiss brushed over her brow.

"Jason?" her mom whispered. "She had horrible night terrors last time before the trial. She said you make her feel safe. Would you sleep on the floor in her room? I have an air mattress."

"Of course. I can sleep anywhere. I'll be fine right on the floor, and I'll keep the door open. I won't take advantage of her, Becky."

"I know. That's why I trust you to take care of her tonight. She needed the light on all night and her dad to sleep on the floor the night before the last trial." Her voice cracked. "If Peter was still here, he'd be proud to have you as the one to take care of his baby."

He cleared his throat, as if getting choked up. "I love her more than anything, Becky. I know it's too soon to say this, but in a few months, I want to ask your permission for her hand. She's my world, and I would do anything to make her happy and keep her safe."

She drifted back to consciousness. They spoke in the hallway.

Her mom sniffled. "Peter said after you left on her birthday that he'd been praying for her to find a good man like you. You make her so happy. She hid and shriveled up after that bastard hurt her. But she's blossomed since finding you. Even as a child there was never such joy in her eyes. I don't worry about her as much being far away in Colorado because she has you."

After a few more minutes, he returned and laid out blankets and a pillow on the floor in the dark. Then he laid down.

She rolled over toward him. "Jason?"

"It's just me, sweetheart. I'll sleep on the floor," he said, obviously thinking she'd been asleep.

Dropping a hand over the edge of the bed, she brushed his shoulder.

His hand caught hers and held tight. "I'll protect you from the monsters, sweetheart." The bed flexed as he sat on the edge. "Go to sleep, my love. I'll be right here." He leaned forward and the gentlest of kisses brushed her lips. "I love you."

"I love you, Jay." She cradled his hand and fell into a peaceful sleep, not afraid of the monster who waited for her tomorrow.


	32. Chapter 32

"Emma?" Jason knocked on the bathroom door at her mom's house the next morning.

Her abs burned from dry heaving as she leaned over the sink and tried to hold back her hair. Twelve times of throwing up in the last half hour since waking up, and there was nothing left in her stomach anymore. The idea of sitting in the testifying box and having Gaston's cold, perverted eyes mentally stripping her and planning out his next assault was terrifying. He wouldn't be in prison forever - he knew it and she knew it. Being alone in that testimony box...the whole courtroom watching her fall apart. Gaston's sick smile, pleasure building in his eye to see her fear...the terrorizing was going to happen all over again, just like the last trial.

Jason slipped in and tied her hair back as she gasped for air. Then he stood behind and pressed a couple inches above her pulse on her wrists and held pressure. "Emma, this is in your head. Relax," he cooed. "Deep breaths."

After a couple more minutes of him talking through it, her stomach did ease up. She leaned back against his chest as he rubbed the pain from her burning abs. He wore his suit and the half mask, as put together as always. She still wore a sleeveless summer nightgown and looked like something the dog had killed. "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can. We're going to practice stress management techniques I learned in SEALS training." He scooped her up in the solid protection of his arms and strode into the living room.

Her mom came out fully dressed, but stress created shadows under her eyes. "Are you alright, baby?" Her mom sat on the edge of the sofa while she sat on the floor.

She shrugged.

Jason sat behind her and rubbed her shoulders. "We're going to see if some SEAL tricks help."

"Alright. I'll get breakfast ready. We need to leave in three hours to meet the lawyer." Her mom brushed a kiss on the top of her head and got up.

"Do you want to try too?" he asked her mom.

Her mom smiled but shook her head, and disappeared into the kitchen.

His hands continued working out the stress, but an aire of irritation vibrated off him. "You were living in poverty in that tiny apartment because you were paying for a lawyer for this trial, weren't you? That's why you sold the car, isn't it? Why didn't you come to me - " He cut himself off.

He'd been the reason why she'd left. "Mom doesn't know, and don't you dare tell her."

His hands stilled. "Emma, I'm so sorry." Guilt filled his voice.

"It's done. I can't handle more than today, Jason." The pounding headache increased in intensity.

Silence. "Will you come to me now if you need something?" His tone overflowed with worry. His hands slipped into her hair and massaged the base of her skull, as if knowing about the headache.

She closed her eyes as the pain eased. "Mm hm."

A kiss brushed her bare shoulder. "The amygdalla overfires in stressful situations. If the frontal lobes can maintain control, there is more conscious thought maintained." Visualization, breathing control, and tapping on pressure points did help ease the gut-wrenching stress enough that the smell of breakfast didn't make her stomach rebel.

The doorbell rang while she and her mom put dishes in the dishwasher and Jason scrubbed the egg pan. She and her mom glanced at each other. He glanced at them in question and walked out to the door. His voice traveled to the kitchen, upbeat and happy. Then an old, warbly female voice trailed in.

Jason walked out with a smile and Nana on his arm. Nana didn't come up much taller than his elbow, with her hunched back, but she made good progress across the kitchen with her cane. "A cab brought a surprise." He smiled.

Her mom rinsed her hands and hurried over. "What are you doing here?"

"Backup, Becky, backup!" Nana declared. "Loverboy here can't handle that monkeyshit pissant alone if he gets any ideas about shooting his mouth off in court again like last time."

She cracked a smile. Dad had needed to hold Nana back in court last time from beating Gaston with her cane when he'd gotten crass.

Jason kept his composure, although his eye twinkled. "I should appreciate the righthand man assistance."

Nana snorted. "You're the righthand man, sonny! I can handle my own. The women in this family can't find men who can keep up with us." Nana walloped the side of her cane into Jason's stomach, earning a grunt from him.

"Nana!" she scolded and stepped around the counter to stand beside him as protection.

"You buff up, Doc. Emmie will keep you on your toes the next sixty years." Nana craned her head back to peer up at him.

Jason smiled. "Yes, ma'm. I can only imagine what is in store if she has your spunk. I'll work on getting into shape."

When he winked at her, she blushed. If he got any more into shape, she might faint.

"Don't kiss my butt. I'm a cranky old bat today. I have some ass kicking to do this afternoon," Nana huffed.

He pulled out a chair for Nana at the table, suppressing a smile.

The cane whacked the chair. "I ain't old! The day I start huffing and puffing from walking across a room, you're fixing me up!"

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"You're a heart doctor, you can keep me ticking. I'm not going until my Emmie makes me a great-nana." Nana patted his hard stomach. "You'll do for now." She held up a warning finger and sat all the same. "We Hoplin women like our men sturdy for making babies."

"Nana!" Her face burned. Her mom's face turned a little red too, with a chuckle.

While her mom got Nana in the car, he hung back with her in the living room. He held out a black rubbery wristband. He wore one too. "I don't know if this will help. I'm hoping it will give you something to focus on and remember when you're testifying that even though I'm across the room, I'm right there with you."

He slipped the band on her left wrist and hit a button. A steady vibration tapped the back her wrist. A heartbeat? She looked at him in confusion.

His hand stroked her cheek as his blue eye held hers. "I've had years of training in how to control stress during combat. When you start getting upset, focus on the vibrations and try to match your breathing to it."

Her other hand covered her mouth, trying to hold back the tears. It was his heartbeat vibrating against her. It pulsed strong and steady. A physical connection to him while she sat in the stand trapped in a world of nightmares - he'd found a way to be a lifeline, feeding air when she'd be drowning. Her heart stumbled and melted. "Where did you find this?" A tear slipped down her cheek.

"I can only see your pulse rate on my end," he said, not answering the question. He turned his wrist. Her pulse showed on a digital display. "If you feel this, it means I'm giving you a hug." He cupped a hand over his wrist.

The wristband trembled slightly. She stared at it. Tears fell from her lashes. She wouldn't be alone in the stand. Even with the monster physically separating them, Jason'd figured out a way to touch her. "You had these specially made, didn't you?" His didn't answer but met her eyes. The expense and thought and planning that had to have gone into these...her heart shattered from so much love in his eye.

He pulled out a handkerchief to dab at her tears and held out a second one. "This is for you to hold onto. No one will question why you have a handkerchief either." It had his scent. "I put my aftershave on the monogrammed corner." Then he pulled her into his arms. "Our love can reach across that room. It can reach across the ocean, Emma. But I know how terrified you are, so these are the best things I could figure out so it would feel like I'm right there."

These would help more than he could ever understand. These would be his arms around her that she so desperately needed in the witness stand. She burst into tears and held him tight.

* * *

Jason was nothing short of her rock in the courtroom. During her testimony, she locked eyes with his, as if only speaking to him, and clutched the handkerchief. His pulse vibrated steady, and he sent hugs when she'd get rattled under the battery of questions and twisting of her words from Gaston's lawyer.

"Objection! Battering the witness!" Nana called for the third time in the past hour from the front row seat in between Jason and her mom. Jason held the woman back from standing up, which was a feat considering how much Nana was spitting nails.

"Mrs. Hoplin, I mean it. I will not tell you to be quiet again," the judge ordered.

"Lowlife harrassing my girl," Nana muttered loud enough to be heard by the lawyer.

"Thank you, Ms. Hoplin," Gaston's lawyer said another grueling hour later.

She walked back to her seat beside her lawyer at a table that sat in front of Jason. A wood railing blocked her from reaching him. She trembled. Gaston's eyes burned away her clothes. She felt naked. Dirty. Worthless. She glanced down. Clothes did still cover her body. Horrid memories surfaced - degrading comments, cruel laughs, punches, powerlessness, pain. Her knees gave out from the quaking, and she collapsed into the chair, drawing a glance from her lawyer.

The lawyer set a hand on her shoulder in comfort. She startled and pulled away. No. Oh god, not a man's touch. Her heart took off even faster than it already beat. A man's touch would trigger the panic. She bit her lip. Sanity only held on by a thread. The room closed in. The lawyer's breathing grated her ears. Her skin crawled when the judge looked at her. The other lawyer walked past, his cologne burning her nose. A sticky metallic taste crept over her tongue. Blood. Her lip hurt. The air thickened, too heavy to breathe. She shot up and spun around to run. She plowed right into Jason's arms as he leaned over the railing.

Love and safety. She clasped her arms around him, clawing him as close as physically possible. His touch steadied the shaking. "It's alright, Emma," he whispered in her ear. His low voice rumbling deep in his chest, so calm and smooth, soothed her jumpy nerves. His woodsy, sweet masculine aroma warmed her heart. She leaned back in his arms, needing to see the love in his eye. "You're wonderful and beautiful, and you deserve to have your voice heard here, Emma."

"It's almost over baby," her mom said, crying into her own handkerchief that had probably come from Jason.

"You can do this, sweetheart." He squeezed her hand. "I love you."

Nana grabbed Jason's arm and pulled herself to her feet. Then Nana grabbed her arm and cupped her face in a gnarled old hand. Nana's milky eyes surrounded by paper thin skin held hers. "You came into this world with a fighter's heart. No one can take away who you are. He will never have that power, unless you give it to him. You're the strongest person I've ever known, Emmie. That fighter hasn't died, you just need to remember she's there."

"Is there a problem, Counselor?" the judge asked.

"No, Your Honor," her lawyer said.

She took a deep breath and resumed her seat.

Her lawyer stood. "I'd like to call Dr. Jason Port to the stand, Your Honor."

Her head whipped around to the lawyer, her heart shooting to her throat. Jason stood. She grabbed the lawyer's sleeve and jerked him down to whisper, "You never said anything about him testifying. If they find out a SEAL beat him, Jason will get jail time," she hissed.

"I've rehearsed this with Jason. He knows how to walk around the defense attorney's questions," he whispered and walked over as Jason was sworn in.

She clasped her hands together. The fear and panic for herself disappeared, replaced now with fear that Jason would end up with his own trial for battery to a civilian. Jason hadn't said a word about being part of the trial, probably thinking he was protecting her from more worry. His heartbeat remained steady, even when the defense attorney went up for the kill and her attorney walked back toward the table.

A cold, slimy shiver ran up her spine. She looked over at the only direction that sick feeling could come from. Gaston sat in his shackles, grinning as his lawyer approached the stand. That asshole wasn't going to touch Jason. Gaston would do anything he could to see Jason in prison, to hurt him just to hurt her. His word against Jason's had to be discredited somehow. She gave a small smile, making Gaston blink in surprise. Then from behind the table, she flipped him off.

Gaston shot up and practically threw himself over the chairs to get to her. Perfect. A convicted psychopath who was unstable even in court. She darted out of her chair toward Jason when Gaston roared obscenities and flung chairs out of the way to get to her. Well, maybe a worse reaction than planned.

The bailiff and Gaston's lawyer ran for Gaston as the judge yelled for order. Jason shot out of the stand and ran for her. He grabbed her arms and whipped her around behind him, just in time to catch Gaston's hand and jerk it downward. It threw Gaston's balance off enough that Gaston slammed to the ground. He stepped back with her as a couple more officers ran in.

Nana whacked her cane against the floor as she tried to lean over the railing to reach Gaston, anxious to join the brawl. Her mom pulled Nana back.

Jason turned to her, keeping his face out of view from everyone. "You tried to piss him off. What the hell are you doing?" he hissed without moving his mouth. His eye bore into her with intense anger, but he pulled her into his arms to continue playing the part of rescuer.

She buried her face against his left shoulder to be near his good ear. "A lunatic's word will carry less weight than yours," she whispered.

"Goddammit, don't pull something like that again. You could've gotten hurt," he hissed in her ear.

"Ms. Hoplin, please take your seat if you're uninjured," the judge ordered. "Dr. Port, Mr. Brawn is restrained, so please return to the stand."

"Yes, Your Honor," Jason said and let go of her. He gave her a warning look before going back.

Gaston sat with his hands chained to the table, but his beady eyes glared. Then a twisted smile slithered across his lips and he shifted his gaze to Jason.

Her blood ran cold. Oh god, he knew that she'd set him up, and now he had his sights on Jason for revenge. What had she done? Jason's voice droned into the background, every fiber of her being zeroed in on the monster who had shifted his sights from her to the man she loved. The creature sat silent, waiting for his chance. His chance to what? What could he possibly do when chained and in a courtroom? Nauseating excitement pulsated from him. Her eyes flew to Jason getting down from the stand awhile later, not ha bing heard a word he'd said. When he sat, she leaned back in her chair. "Get out, Jason," she whispered, the panic rising up.

He did a double take.

"Jason, he's up to something. Go wait downstairs."

"What? No, I'm not leaving you." He frowned like she was crazy. "He's chained. Relax, Emma."

No, he didn't understand the way Gaston's twisted mind could work.

"Is there a problem with your client?" the judged asked.

Her lawyer leaned over and grabbed her arm. "Stop it." Then he turned to the judge. "No, Your Honor."

She sat silent through the rest of the trial, but kept giving Jason pointed looks to leave.

He kept frowning and shaking his head. After awhile, he'd just glance at her and then look away when she'd give a pointed look. The trial passed by in a blur. The final time she glared at him, he frowned. 'Relax,' he mouthed. Easy for him to say when he didn't see the snake about to strike.

When the judge sentenced Gaston to ten more years for assault, battery, breaking into the hotel, escape from prison, and stalking, everyone stood up to go. She had to hold back to finish up with her lawyer. She whipped around to Jason. "Go."

"Wait, bitch! In a few years, I'll find you one night! I'll fuck your brains out!" Gaston roared as the bailiff and an officer walked over to unchain him from the table.

Her mom's gasped echoed through the courtroom. Several heads turned to Gaston in shock.

Instead of fearing for herself. Her eyes flew to Jason. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Something in her gut wrenched. Fear iced over her heart. This was it. Gaston was going to strike.

Jason shot to his feet, his eye slicing through Gaston. Tension coiled in his body, all of his muscles ready to protect her. "Don't listen, Emma." He reached out a hand to her over the railing, his eye locked on Gaston. "Come here, Em." He tried to pull her closer to lift her over the railing.

"Even a cripple won't bed you, will he? I left my brand on you! You're mine, you ugly whore!"

"Order!" the judged slammed his grovel, and the cop tried to unchain Gaston faster.

"Emma, come here," Jason commanded.

Her heart raced and chest heaved. She backed away from Jason and Gaston, her eyes locked on the monster. A branding. The random slash to her thigh with his knife was a brand. Jason had heard it. Every time Jason would see it, he'd be reminded that he touched what someone else had claimed. Oh god, a brand like an animal, a possession owned by a master.

"You're damaged goods and trash to anyone else. You terrified, worthless whore." The dark, hollow laugh bubbled up from Gaston's dark soul.

That laugh. Every time he'd punched, every time he'd rutted, that laugh had followed. It paralyzed. Her heart stopped. She couldn't breathe. The trembling tenfolded in a split instant, making it hard to stand.

Jason moved out of the corner of her eye, trying to shove through the people to get to where she backed away toward the empty jury box. Her mind locked, so terrified that her feet kept moving backwards to put distance between herself and Gaston. Thirty feet wasn't enough.

The moment the bailiff unchained one of Gaston's wrists from the table, he flung aside the guard and surged at her.

She screamed and backed up, hitting the wall. He wouldn't inflict pain - he'd kill her for putting him in jail longer. One punch to the head from his muscular frame would do it.

Jason lept over the railing and rushed at Gaston from the side. All hell broke lose the moment the two of them crashed to the floor.

The judge yelled for order. Nana cheered Jason on. The bailiff and cop ran over radioing for backup. She was trapped in the corner of the courtroom with six feet between her and Gaston, and Jason as the only barrier.

Right, left, block, duck. Jason's breathing was too labored as he darted Gaston's swinging appendages. It gave Gaston an incredible advantage. Their movements whizzed in a blur of color. Gaston must've had someone with incredible fighting skills train him in prison - skills that tested even Jason. Madness made him lethal and unpredictable. But Jason wouldn't attack. The distance between her and the men shrank to four feet, Jason's wheezing growing louder and her heart thundering faster. Sweat ran down the two men.

"Get on the ground!" the cop yelled and pulled a gun. But without a life-threatening situation, he couldn't pull the trigger. Jason and Gaston moved so fast that Jason would get shot too if the cop fired.

Gaston kicked Jason hard in the chest. Jason slammed back into the wall beside her, his chest heaving but rage burned in his eye.

Gaston spun and swiped at the gun. The cop and bailiff leapt back. That bastard knew they couldn't shoot at him. Gaston lunged, locking his hands around Jason's throat. Jason's thumbs tried to bury into Gaston's eyes. Gaston pressed a thumb on the hollow of Jason's throat to crush his trachea. Her paralyzing fear fled. The cops rushed at Gaston from behind. And so did she.

Her fingers clamped down hard on the suprascapular nerves on his shoulders right where he had bitten hers and caused blinding pain. Gaston screamed and let go of Jason to spin around, flinging an arm out to send her flying into a corner. Her back slammed enough to bruise but do no worse.

The bailiff and cop lunged for Gaston. He spun and snatched the gun, shooting the bailiff in the shoulder and just missing the cop. Everyone screamed. More cops and security swarmed into the room. "I'm gonna kill the bitch!" he roared.

Oh god. Jason would take the bullet for her. Gaston would kill him.

The moment Gaston turned, Jason's arm slammed down on Gaston's and sent the weapon flying. Cops rushed in, but Jason went ballistic on Gaston. His fists rained down. Even when the judge yelled and the cops battled to break it up, Jason didn't stop. He'd kill Gaston to protect her.

Three cops struggled to pull Jason off, two of them holding his arms and a third trying to get him on the ground. Two officers grabbed Gaston and pulled him away. Gaston's face was bloody from probably a broken nose, and his eye was already swelling. "I'll find her," Gaston laughed.

Jason flung himself at Gaston, fighting like a mad animal thirsting to rip out Gaston's throat. The third cop unbalanced Jason enough to shove him down to his knees and handcuffed him. This is what Gaston had wanted - for Jason to get arrested. He'd accomplished it within five minutes.

She ran over and knelt before Jason, cupping his face in her hands to force him to look at her instead of Gaston. Pure rage boiled in his blood, and his cold eye promised death. His chest heaved and nostrils flared from anger. The kind, gentle man she loved didn't look back at her, but instead the ruthless SEAL who could kill without hesitation. If she hadn't known his gentle heart, she'd be as terrified of him as these police seemed to be. The wheezing didn't seem to even faze him.

Her voice rang calm and soothing. "Jason, stop. This is what he wants." Her wristband vibrated out of control from his heartrate. She laid a hand on his chest. "Shhh, Jay, it's alright." She dug his inhaler out of his pocket and administered it, even though he turned his head away at first to keep his glare on Gaston.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye. Her head whipped around and eyes bugged.

Nana hobbled to Gaston, raised her cane, and cracked it over Gaston's head. Her frail strength didn't do much damage. Not getting a satisfactory howl of pain, Nana started jabbing Gaston with the cane. The cops all seemed too stunned to stop her. "I know you didn't try messing with my Emmie and her beau. I'll jab your eyes out, yeller piece of monkeyshit," Nana grumbled. She jabbed the cane and hit Gaston's broken nose.

Gaston howled in pain, and a male cop eased Nana away.

"That's right! Hold me back! Hold me back, sonny!" Nana had to stop walking for a moment to balance and point her cane at Gaston. "If I see you again, I'll whip your ass with this cane like your Mama should've done! I'll be by to visit you in prison!" Nana called as a cop slowly walked her back to her seat.

"Fuck you!" Gaston barked.

Nana hobbled in a circle to turn around. "You wanna piece of me? I'm too full of piss and vinegar to die, monkeyshit. We'll be in the same hospital room, and I ain't flatlining until you do first so I can get one last whack at your corpse!" The cop carefully turned her back to the seats.

"Enough!" the judge roared and shot up. "Get him out of here!" He pointed at Gaston.

Jason's glare followed Gaston being hauled out, and then his eye gradually lost the murderous glint of madness and his heartbeat slowed down. "Are you alright?" he demanded, his eye still narrowed.

She nodded and brushed his damp face with the handkerchief.

"Dr. Port," the judge growled.

He closed his eye for a moment, as if realizing the heap of trouble he'd gotten himself into. "Shit," he whispered under his breath. "Go find your mother, Emma." The cops hauled him to his feet and over to the bench.

She walked over to her mom, who stood near the railing in tears and crushed her in a hug. She looked over to see what the judge was going to do to Jason.

"Is he getting arrested?" her mom whispered.

She pulled back to watch with dread. "I think so."

"Dr. Port, your bravery for disarming a dangerous situation is commended. You probably saved several lives. I cannot, however, overlook the battery, contempt of court, and disorderly conduct. Cool off overnight without causing trouble, and I won't see a need for charges to appear on your record."

"Thank you, Your Honor." Jason stood tall, but humiliation leaked through in his tone.

They led Jason away through a side door. He didn't look back, his shame pulsating across the room.

A half hour later, she waited with her mom in the jail waiting room.

"I shouldn't be doing this, Emma," one of the guards said. "This is repayment for the identity theft you figured out for my wife under the table two years ago. You saved us a heap of money in lawyer fees doing the work under the table. Five minutes is all you've got." He opened the door and let her slip into the hall.

"Thanks. He got beat up pretty good and might still have asthma problems." She trotted down the hall with him and slipped into the single jail cell room while he held watch.

Jason laid on his back on a cot in the small cell, staring up at the ceiling with his hands tucked behind his head.

"Jason?" She walked over to the cell wall adjacent to the bed.

He looked over in surprise and got up, holding his side for a moment as he straightened. "Emma, what are you doing here?" He walked over.

"The guard let me sneak in for a few minutes. Do you have your inhaler? Are you alright?"

"The guard has my inhaler, and I'm fine." His face burned red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Emma. I wasn't going to punch him and embarrass you like this, but I lost it when he got the gun to shoot you."

She reached between the bars and took his hand with a soft smile. "You didn't embarrass me, for heaven's sake. He beat you up..." Her voice trailed off when he looked away. Her eyebrows rose. "You let him beat you up a little, didn't you?"

His blue eye focused on the far wall. "I barely squeaked by without battery charges for when he attacked at the hotel, thanks to you. I figured it wouldn't hurt looking like I struggled. He definitely got some training in prison from someone, but he wasn't SEAL trained. By the end I was having trouble in earnest from the asthma. The cops certainly took their time helping." He squeezed her hand. "I might not be here if you hadn't rescued me. Thank you, Emma."

"You did far more rescuing, Jay." Then she started laughing and had to cover her mouth with her free hand.

His eyebrow cocked. "Shouldn't you be in tears from almost being killed and running from me like I'm a lunatic? I'm surprised your mother didn't put you under housearrest so I can't get to you."

"Are you kidding? Mom is gloating that Dad would've jumped in and helped you!" She laughed. "When can you get out?"

He leaned a shoulder against the bars. "Nine tomorrow," he drawled. "I'm glad you find this amusing." A hint of a smile twitched his lips.

"I don't," she giggled. "I just never thought to see you in jail. It's kinda hot."

He looked around the cell. "It's not hot. Thank God it's a newer cell. At least maybe I'll have a chance of surviving the diseases crawling in here." Then his eye returned to her, a little bit of a glint in there this time.

Now with the embarrassment fading, his cool, confident demeanor leaked through again. His frame seemed to dwarf the cell. Being in there didn't detract from his attractiveness but somehow added to it - the tough, badass man who had such a beautiful heart. She searched his eye. "It made him less scary."

Nana barged into the room, hobbling along on her cane. "Whew! That was a hell of a fight! You're a good wingman, loverboy." She walked up to the cell and stuck her frail arm through, making a fist.

She held back a laugh. Apparently Nana saw herself as the main ringfighter.

Jason blinked down at Nana's hand.

Nana rolled her eyes. "You're gettin' old, sonny. The kids are doing it these days. Fist pump me!"

He made a fist and gave a gentle, slow tap to Nana's delicate fist.

"He ain't comin' back, Emmie! He's scared of us, isn't he, JJ?" Nana looked up at him, a smile curling up her leathery skin.

He chuckled. "Right."

She frowned. "No, it's Jason, Nana."

Nana's brow furrowed. "You called him JJ."

She adjusted the dial on Nana's hearing aid. "No, sometimes I call him Jay."

Nana scowled at him. "Are you placating me like an old woman by answering to JJ?"

His smile froze like a deer in headlights. "Um...no?"

The guard walked back in. "Alright, time's up."

She looked at him, hating to leave. "Are you sure you're alright? You held your side when you got up." She nibbled her lip with worry.

"I'm fine, sweetheart - "

Reaching through the bars, she jerked up his shirt out of his pants to bare his ribs. Three massive bruises covered his lower ribs and abs. "Jason." Her eyes widened. He might have internal hemorrhaging.

"Love, I learned to always keep my abs flexed in close combat to prevent internal damage. The muscles hurt, but I promise it's nothing serious." He eased her hand away.

"Emmie, come. Get your rest while you can, JJ. Emmie won't have any complaints getting pregnant by a man with abs like that." Nana grabbed her arm and started hobbling out.

Her face burned with embarrassment. "Nana! Do be a lady."

"I am. I wouldn't notice abs if I was a man, would I?" Nana countered.

Jason chuckled. "I hope I have half of Nana's spunk at eighty to keep up with the women in this family, sweetheart."

She threw him a look. The man looked so sexy and adorable and sweet and badass all wrapped up in one as he leaned a shoulder against the bars. He shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed his ankles. When he winked, her heart went into palpitations. Dear heaven, she loved this wonderful man. "I love you, Jay."

"I love you too, sweetheart." A soft smile danced on his lips.

"I'll pick you up in the morning." She gave a final glance over her shoulder from the doorway.

"And I'll miss you until then, my love," he said with his whole heart.

Her heart melted, and Nana had to drag her away.


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: I wrote the previous chapter when not feeling well. When I read it again the other night after feeling better, the fight scene seemed disjointed and not as fast as I pictured it in my head, so I rewrote that courtroom scene.**

 **I know a few of you like to read between the lines. Like, y** **ou'll notice Emma uses a new pet name or two in this chapter. You'll see Emma and Jason handle a miscommunication differently than ever before because they are becoming more in tune with each other's personalities and behaviors. We've shaved through a lot of their layers and barriers, and we're going to start seeing the cracks in their foundation get solidly reenforced to set up for the main climax of the third story.**

 **Thanks for the reviews, Guest, thedreamsicle, Believeinangels, callico11852, Waya17, YazminXD, and Caroltrivilini!** **I think that captures everyone who has reviewed this week.** **I'm so excited that we picked up some readers since yesterday who have zoomed through to almost catch up with us - yes, I am reading your comments coming in from the first story. :)**

* * *

Jason was moved overnight into a cell next to Gaston's, only bars separating them until Gaston could be transported to prison in the morning. A sick smile twisted Gaston's face. Jason glared at him and sat on the cot along the opposite wall. Then the guard took dinner to Gaston's cell door.

Gaston shot across the cell, thrust an arm through the bars, and slammed the guard's head against the metal in one swift move. The guard slumped to the floor unconscious. Gaston snatched the keys and unlocked his cell, kicking the guard away. A smile slithered across his lips as he unlocked Jason's cell and stepped in.

Jason slowly stood, braced for a fight. Gaston flung the heavy ring of keys at him. Jason ducked. Gaston charged, slamming Jason into the bars. Jason blinked hard as the bars rang from the impact with his skull. Gaston grabbed his head. And snapped Jason's neck. Jason fell to the floor in a lifeless heap.

She shot awake, her heart slamming as she panted for air. Tears streamed down her face. The guards wouldn't possibly put Jason near Gaston...would they? Gaston would be so angry, he'd seeth all night and attack Jason in his sleep. Snatching her cell phone on the nightstand, she looked up the phone number for the jail. It went straight to an answering machine. She got up and tiptoed down the hall to use the desktop in her dad's study. He would've had someone's phone number who worked at the jail. Just having a guard who was there to confirm Jason was alright would calm the twisting of her stomach.

Tiptoeing into the living room, she jumped to see Nana sitting on the sofa reading a book.

"Morning, Emmie." Nana smiled and set down the book and her reading glasses.

She blinked. "Morning? Why are you up?" The mantle clock read quarter after five. Apparently it was almost morning.

"Why are you?"

She frowned. "Just couldn't sleep. Can't you sleep? Mom made the bed up in the other guest room - "

Nana's milky blue eyes met hers. "I don't sleep much these past fifteen years since your grandfather passed. Neither does your mother since your father passed. I suspected you wouldn't sleep well either with your man sitting in a cell for protecting you from a monster. Or the monster would come to your dreams." Nana patted the sofa beside her. "Sit. No one will answer the phone at the jail at this hour. He's alright."

"How did you know I was going to call?"

"Emmie." Nana gave a pointed look. "You were gifted with too much of an imagination."

She sat down and stared at the beige carpet, hating the memories of the dream. "I dreamt he killed Jason."

A weathered old hand rested over hers in her lap. "JJ is a strong, smart man. When a man has something to live for, he won't give up easily." Then Nana propped her hands on the tall end of the book. "He loves you very much."

A flush crept up her cheeks with a shy smile. "I know, Nana."

"No, he loves you, Emmie."

She locked eyes with Nana, the smile fading. Nana must've seen it too - that he would've leapt in front of that lethal bullet for her in a heartbeat. "Sometimes I get...anxious. I don't know why. He has his faults, but he's such a good man, Nana." She swallowed hard and blinked back tears. "He's so good that I keep waiting for a monster to come out."

"Fear has amazing power. They say that love can conquer all, but it cannot overcome some things."

She frowned and brushed at her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You have a strong love, but it has cracks that make it more fragile than glass, Emmie. He studies you so intensely that it's as if he's constantly watching for that anxiety so he can stop it before you see it coming. Do not see danger where there is none, Emmie. It will chip away the glass until it finally breaks. He's always slightly on edge, as if he's experienced losing you and is scared it will happen again."

Something about Nana seemed so wise and perceptive when these serious moods struck. A deep humbleness swept over her heart. She stared down at her hands in her lap. "I did leave him once. I let the fear tell me what to do," she whispered and brushed at her eyes. The shame of needlessly causing him pain that he still watched out for made her heart ache.

"Would you protect him from Monkeyshit again if you had to?"

A watery laugh burst out at Nana's dislike for Gaston. "Of course I would."

Nana held her gaze in all seriousness. Her smile died. "Then why do you so often throw Monkeyshit at the man you love, teaching him to study you so he's ready to swing the bat if you throw a curveball?"

She stared at Nana. Oh god. The fear that he would do something like Gaston did make her accuse or fear he'd do things Gaston had. Jason kept fighting for her, and she'd already run from him once. If she didn't stop, she'd eventually drive him away.

"This fear exists in your head. It is not real, Emmie. That man would stab his own heart before ever intentionally harming you." Nana was absolutely right. "Go get some rest so you look like Sleeping Beauty when it's time to rescue your prince from the dungeon." A smile touched Nana's thin lips.

The dear woman was right that she needed to go rest to get her head on straight. Jason was alright in jail too. Leaning over, she kissed a weathered cheek and stood up. Then she turned. "Nana?"

"Hm?" Nana looked up as she picked up her reading glasses.

A smile tugged at her lips. "I think your baby comments are wearing him down."

With a sly grin, Nana picked up her book. "I see they're not only wearing _him_ down."

She flushed and held up a stern finger. "Not a word to him that I talked to you about it."

"Of course, Emmie." Nana smiled.

When she walked back to her room and got in bed, she picked up the cell to set an alarm. It showed a voicemail. With a frown, she hit the button to listen. Who would call at five in the morning?

"Hi, sweetheart," Jason's voice played in the message. "The guard let me call quick to shut me up. I hope this doesn't wake you if you're sleeping. I've been worried all night if you're having nightmares after yesterday. I wish I was there, sweetheart. Even though I'm not, I'm thinking of you. It'll be alright. Wake your mother or Nana if you have nightmares. Promise me. I don't want you being stubborn and crying in the dark alone." So much distress carried through in his voice. Another male voice mumbled in the background. "I have to go, love. I'll see you in less than four hours. I love you, Emma. Don't be scared."

Her heart melted that he was so worried he called this early in the morning. It wasn't like him to not be considerate of the time - he must be really upset. She dialed the incoming number, but it just went to the generic answering machine. Well, there was nothing to do about it. She laid down and fell into a peaceful sleep knowing he was thinking of her.

* * *

She rolled over in bed and stretched. Something was going on this morning. Opening her eyes, she frowned. This was her childhood room. Mom's house...? Mom's house! Jason! "Oh my god!" She grabbed the cell. Quarter after ten! She'd never set the alarm after listening to Jason's message. He'd been released more than an hour ago. She jumped out of bed and whipped open her door, tearing down the hall. Mom wasn't in bed. The house flooded with daylight from open curtains. Mom's and Nana's laughter rang down the hall. "Mom! Why didn't you wake me?! Can you grab my jeans out of the dryer?!" She ran toward the living room and stopped in her tracks.

Her mom sat in the loveseat on the opposite wall laughing and looking at something on the sofa. She stepped into the livingroom. Nana sat on the sofa smiling. And Jason sat beside Nana.

He rose to his feet with a smile and his hair damp as if freshly showered. "There's Sleeping Beauty." Then he held out his arms.

Her mouth fell open with a huge smile. "You're home!" She ran across the room and threw herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck.

He laughed and hugged her tight. "Ah, I missed you, Em," he sighed in pleasure.

"I'm sorry. I woke up around five and meant to set my alarm and - "

"It's alright, sweetheart. Your mother picked me up. Nana said you had a nightmare." He buried his face in her hair and kissed her cheek. "Are you alright?" he whispered in her ear.

She nodded. "I woke up because I dreamed Gaston broke into your cell and killed you," she whispered, not letting him go yet. Nana mumbled something about going to get some breakfast.

"I dreamed he tried to attack you, sweetheart." He pulled back a bit to look at her. His soft blue eye dove right into her heart as his warm, gentle hand cupped her cheek.

Nuzzling his hand, her eyes fluttered closed. His warm touch was so calm and comforting. "I love you," she sighed in contentment. When his lips brushed hers, she started to melt. But then it struck that she hadn't brushed her teeth or hair yet. She stepped back and held her fists up to her mouth in embarrassment.

His eye opened, still poised for a kiss. He straightened with a solemn look, as if unsure why the rejection.

Her face burned. "I jumped out of bed and didn't brush my teeth," she mumbled from behind her hands.

He rolled his eye and smiled, pulling her close again with one arm. "You're sexy just out of bed," he said in hushed tones to avoid being overheard. Then he tugged her against his chest and pulled her hands down.

She giggled but didn't open her mouth when he tilted his head down. He, of course, had a fresh aroma of showering after jail. His lips didn't quite touch, but his tongue darted out and tapped her lips. A rush of giddy excitement made her giggle like a teenager, and she pulled away. "Behave."

A rakish smile softened his lips. "Do I need to keep you away from badass bikers and jailbirds, Ms. Hoplin?" His arms slipped around her.

She laid her hands on his wonderfully defined chest that was not too well hidden under just a white dress shirt. "I like a man a bit more classy and capable of taking any reins, Dr. Port," she purred, her eyes focused on his lips. "God, you're hot, Jason," she whispered and grabbed a fistful of his shirt to pull him down for a kiss he wouldn't forget.

But, a throat cleared and Nana's warbly voice cut in. "I wanna hear those wedding bells soon, JJ."

Ugh, now was not the time for Nana to be helpful. She escaped to the bedroom and found her mom setting the jeans on her bed. "Thanks. And for getting him. You could've woken me."

Her mom shrugged and smiled. "You had a hard day yesterday, and I don't really get to do much mom stuff like that anymore. I have eggs and toast for breakfast. Can Jason eat those?" A frown wrinkled her brow.

She smiled. "I'm not sure if toast will give him trouble. Ask him. He'll probably like that you're being considerate." Her mom hesitated. "Mom, he'll feel awkward if it seems like he makes you feel awkward. Go ask him. He's gonna be around for family things." She laughed and pushed her mom out the door.

When she ducked into the bathroom in jeans and a purple shirt to brush her hair, his head poked around the corner. "Hi." She laughed.

He held up an allergy shot with a smile. "Feel like stabbing me?"

Her eyebrow cocked, and she ran the last stroke through her hair and set down the brush. "That's not very funny."

He grinned and stepped in. "When PMS hits, you're going to love it."

When she pinched the skin on the back of his arm, she sighed in frustration. "Do you know what fat is? This is nauseating. I look at a donut and gain two pounds; you look and drop two. Isn't there an easier spot?"

"The other spots are even harder. Angle the needle at fourty five degrees if it helps. I know you're self-conscious about gaining a couple pounds while I was in California..." When she finished, he turned to cap the syringe and then set his hands on her hips. "But you needed the weight, and I like it." His fingers tightened on her. "If you want to put on a few more pounds, it just makes you sturdier for making love," he whispered, his voice husky.

She flushed and grabbed his shirt to untuck it and check his bruises.

"I didn't mean right now in your mother's bathroom, but if you're game..." A devilish smile curled his mouth.

"I'm checking your bruises." She smiled with a shake of her head and lifted his shirt. A reddish purple bruise the size of her hand covered his left abs. "Oh, Jay. Does it hurt?" Her fingers brushed over it to check for swelling and then lifted his shirt higher to find one on his sternum where Gaston had kicked. She slid his shirt off his shoulders to get a better look.

"It's tender but not fatal." He smiled, seeming to enjoy the attention.

"Jason, are eggs and toast - " Her mom stepped in the doorway and stopped in her tracks, turning red. "Oh, sorry." She stepped back around the corner.

He flushed too standing there shirtless, and turned quick like he wanted to hide the burn on his shoulder.

Nana stepped around the corner with her cane and sighed. "If your grandfather had looked like that, I would've had twelve babies instead of five." She wiggled a boney finger. "You're sneaky, JJ. But good plan. Emmie can't resist a body like that for long."

"Nana! Go away." She frowned when the poor man turned red but he smiled. A third bruise discolored his shoulder burn. She frowned and stepped behind him. None on his back at least.

He slid his shirt back on and buttoned it up, his eye lighter with a smile. "Whatever you're making if fine, Becky. Thank you." When her mom left, he tucked in his shirt and turned.

She ran her hands over his chest with care so as not to hurt the bruises. The hills and valleys of his muscles compounded with his aggressive protectiveness yesterday sent her heart into palpitations. "I - " The smile died on her lips. Something between humiliation and self-consciousness reflected in his eye. "What's wrong?" She stroked his freshly shaven cheek.

"I talked to the oral surgeon when you were taking the FBI exams..." He seemed to shut down when his eye fell away.

"Honey, talk to me. What did he say?" She searched his eye.

"I called him to see about getting a bridge for the teeth pulled a few months ago. I don't remember this, but he said he told me it would require drilling down the two adjacent teeth to be anchors. It would rule out implants, and he doesn't recommend it because I have so many teeth problems. He said to wait nine or twelve more months to see about implants once the jawbone fills in from the pulled teeth." His eye seemed to hone in, to study her reaction. "I need you to be honest, Emma. Does it bother you?"

She frowned. "Your mouth? Or not getting the bridge?"

The poor man flushed with embarrassment. "To kiss me. Or that eating is more unsightly with the teeth missing?"

If he didn't appear so upset, the ridiculous questions would've made her laugh. Stepping closer to encircle her arms around his waist, she looked up at the worry creating wrinkles in the corner of his eye. "We've talked about this, Jay."

A wall slammed up but not before hurt shot across his face. "You're right. My apologies." He pulled away and made it two steps to the doorway.

She caught his hand and pulled him back. "Stop. That was not a comment to shoot you down. I'm just saying I'm a little worried that you're bringing it up again. You know your mouth doesn't bother me. I love kissing you, and I wish you'd eat with me more." She frowned in concern. "I think it bothers you, and you want it to bother me too."

His eye dropped to her hands holding his. "You're so accepting. It's not possible for nothing to bother you. I'm tense waiting to find out what it is, or if your tolerance is wearing down." His beautiful blue eye locked on her.

Her heart beat faster. "Alright, you can't get mad at me, or run off hurt or anything until we get through the whole conversation."

He tensed, as if bracing himself, and nodded.

"The mask." She bit her lip and waited for it.

He pulled his hands away and took a step back, his eye hard. "You know that is not negotiable."

The beating of her heart fluttered with nervousness. He wasn't going to take this well, but it needed to be said. "Let me finish what I'm going to say because it's going to seem cold if I don't explain. I'm not marrying you without seeing your face. You - "

He snorted a bitter laugh and looked away, as if not believing his ears. "I'm not doing this here at your mother's. If you're too horrified to marry a beast - "

"Stop it!" She glanced at the doorway and lowered her voice. His eye burned with hurt and anger. "Let me finish, and do not twist my words like that," she snapped. "You're edgy like you're stressed and tired." He opened his mouth, but she slapped a hand over it. "No. You're going to listen so this miscommunication stops right here." He glared but didn't pull her hand away. "I am not putting a wedding band on your finger...," tears welled and her voice cracked, "with you afraid that I don't love every piece you. And I'm not taking a ring if you don't believe I adore you more than anything in the world." A tear slipped down her cheek. Tears shimmered in his eye.

"You're not a beast, and it hurts to see you hate yourself like that and say I could hate you like that too. I know you're going to have times when you need reminding that the scars don't bother me. I worry about you having these physical hardships, but I never doubt that you can do it. So yes, your burns do bother me. Your mouth does bother me." The emotions bubbled up, escaping the flood gates and unable to be stopped. "It hurts every time I see you leave to go eat alone or break off a kiss because you're embarrassed about wiping your mouth or hesitate at a stairwell because you don't have the depth perception." She dropped her hand from his mouth to touch her chest. "The hardest part is I can't absorb some of your burdens. I worry because I don't know if doing what I can to help would embarrass or humiliate you. There's no manual, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do to help you." Her lip quivered as he blurred.

He didn't move. And then he gathered her in his arms. "Emma, I didn't realize it was so hard on you - "

Anger surged up. She ripped out of his arms and pointed at him, with tears on her cheeks. "Don't you dare say it's a burden to be with you."

He held up his hands. "That's not what I was going to say." He held out a hand, and she gave hers over. He stepped closer and held her again. "I didn't realize this was so hard on you, and I wish you would've told me sooner. You do help me, Emma. Finding pleasure in my touch or asking my opinion when you aren't sure what to decide - having you see me like a man helps. I didn't know it hurt you that I eat alone. Knowing it's because you want to make things easier, and not because you pity or I make you feel embarrassed, I won't object to help on the stairs. If you're on my arm and take the first step down, it'll help me judge the distance too by feeling how far you shift down." He stroked her back, soothing and slow. "I'm used to the worst from people, and sometimes I'll need the reminder you're just helping and not pitying. It's not right or fair, but I'll probably snap at you from time to time. I do get overwhelmed by being...different. Ms. Van Hoodie and Stevens can attest that I get frustrated and have a temper. But I want you to come back to me later and say if I hurt your feelings. I won't mean to."

"And you have to just tell me if I'm trying to be too helpful. I can't stand this wondering if I should or shouldn't step in. Sometimes I'll just step in so you won't feel embarrassed having to say you'll take the help. Other times I will ask if it's okay."

He rested his cheek atop her head. "I would like that. Sometimes I can tell you're studying me, and then I get tense wondering if you're analyzing if you could put up with me your whole life."

"Noo." She frowned and looked up at him. "I don't want to be without you. How could you think that?"

He shook his head with a soft smile. "I don't want to be without you either, Emma. I love you. I'm glad we had this talk."

"Me too." She smiled and accepted his peck on the lips.

When she led him out to the kitchen, Nana sat at the table with a knowing smile. Her mom kept her eyes down on the pan at the counter and scooped eggs onto a plate. She froze. "You heard, didn't you?"

"A marriage doesn't last without communication," her mom smiled and walked over the eggs.

The table had four place settings. Jason wouldn't want to eat in front of all of them. "Um, Mom?"

"JJ and I are going to eat in the den." Nana pushed herself to her feet.

"It's best if I don't dine with people," Jason protested.

Nana hobbled around from the far side of the table. "I don't either. You take off your mask, and I'll take out my dentures. I gum my food and drool. I am more unsightly for a dining partner than you. Come, JJ. If you can put up with me alone for a half hour, maybe I'll give my blessing for you to marry Emmie."

She flushed hard and gave Nana a pointed look for that bold comment. "You can eat out here with or without people, Jason."

He reached around her for a plate and whispered in her ear, "You get some of your fire from Nana. I don't think she'll let me out of this." Then he kissed her cheek. "What would you like, Nana?"

When he reached for the spoon in the eggs, he missed the spoon by a couple centimeters. He tensed and moved his hand around slightly, trying to find the spoon as fast as possible. The more he got flustered, the more he missed the spoon. He jerked his hand away and straightened. His heart visibly thumped in his chest. Her eye flew around the table to check if anyone else had seen. Her mom and Nana seemed preoccuppied. When she glanced at him, his eye darted away, as if ashamed she'd seen it. Her mom always got out the silver, shiny flatware when company came over. Perhaps the shine threw off his depth perception.

She leaned around him, setting a hand on his back. "Nana likes the big chunks of egg like this one," she said for an excuse. Turning her palm up, she reached for the spoon. Her fingertips touched the side of the bowl just a few centimeters under the spoon and slid up to come in contact with the underside of the spoon handle. Then her hand curled around the spoon, she scooped some eggs onto the plate, and set the spoon back in the bowl for him to try.

He held his breath but repeated her movements, finding the spoon on the first try. His shoulders relaxed, and he glanced at her with a hint of a smile. "Thank you," he whispered.

She smiled, joy bubbling up over his small victory, and picked up a plate while he filled Nana's.

"I'll get yours, sweetheart." He glanced over.

"Oh, I can do it, hun." He didn't need to risk embarrassing himself again on her account.

A patient smile lit up his face. "I know you can. Let me get Nana settled. I'll get your plate too, Becky." He seemed to want to do it for her for some reason.

Her mom blushed and sat down at the table. "Why, thank you."

"Fill her plate good, JJ. She needs some meat on her for having strong babies."

"Yes, ma'm." He smiled and slipped a wink to her while her face burned with embarrassment.

Nana's eyes softened and her voice filled with tenderness. "She'll be beautiful with a swollen belly."

He looked at her and stilled, his eye overflowing with love. She gave a shy smile when his eye wandered to her waist, as he was imagining her full with a baby. Although he didn't reply, his tender gaze met hers and said everything more beautifully than words ever could. The desire to be pregnant with his baby made her heart twist.

"Come, loverboy. You'll make her your wife soon enough," Nana cut in. He blushed and offered his arm to Nana as he carried out her plate and glass of juice.

Her mom pulled out the chair beside her. "He seems to love you very much."

She sat and looked down at her hands. "How did you know Dad was 'the one'?" Her brow furrowed, and she searched her mom's eyes.

A distant, faraway look overcame her mom's face. A soft, beautiful smile lifted away the unending grief. "I was just finishing college and he was out of school. We had been dating for a few months. My car got a flat tire on the way to finals. I commuted to college in southern Illinois, and I broke down near a gas station. It was before cell phones, and I walked a quarter mile to call your dad at his apartment. I don't know why I called him instead of a tow truck. I was in tears thinking I'd fail if I didn't make it in time for my exam." Nostalgic tears brimmed in her eyes. "He showed up and we traded car keys. I didn't have a spare tire, and his didn't fit my car. He stayed to wait for the tow truck and sent me off to class. I found out the next day from Nana that he was supposed to have gone to an interview with the FBI in the opposite direction of campus. It was a job he'd always dreamed of. When I asked him why he didn't tell me, why he didn't just go, he said that being able to help me was more important to him. It took nine years for that job offer to come back around to him, but he always swore he never regretted his decision." A tear slid down her mom's cheek. "I didn't realize it until the next day, but that's the moment I knew. But you don't question that Jason is the one, do you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she shook her head. "It's too soon to know, isn't it? I've known him almost six months, and we've been dating even fewer."

"Normally, I'd say 'yes.' But there's something about you two. You know him better than I do, and you know yourself. What does your heart say?"

She bit her lip and smiled. "I'd tell him 'yes' if he asked me today. He gets cranky and his self-confidence suffers sometimes from the burns, but he's so considerate and kind and does little things like fill my plate. Mom, the world is so safe with him." Tears welled in her eyes. "I never thought I could ever be near Gaston without being so ungodly terrified. But yesterday when he almost killed Jason, the fear vanished. I ran _to_ Gaston and touched him. I'm stronger when I'm with Jason, Mom." Her tears dropped onto the table.

"My apologies for the delay, ladies." He stepped into the kitchen and stopped, looking from her to her mom. "Am I interrupting?"

She brushed her tears with a smile. Her mom gave a watery laugh. "Emma was just telling me how good you are to her."

He frowned. "I fear I'm sorely lacking if that reduces her to tears." He stepped around the table and leaned over her shoulder to brush a kiss on her cheek. "Are you alright?"

With a nod, she smiled. "Good tears." Then her stomach growled.

He straightened and grabbed two plates. "It seems I have arrived in time to ward off starvation. Toast for both of you?"

Knowing him, he'd follow proper etiquette and serve the eldest female first. To her curiosity, he filled both plates at the same time. Then he set down her mom's plate and then hers a couple seconds later. Her heart skipped a beat that he'd followed etiquette but yet shown high respect to her by serving her just behind. She stared at him, starry eyed as he chatted with her mom and insisted on filling his own plate.

A smile lit up his face, creating a hint of a dimple in his cheek. The smile lines around his mouth creased a hair deeper than a few months ago. He smiled more now, and it lifted the shadows from his eye. It was odd how invisible the mask had become. He'd be such a loving and guiding husband. This man would be an amazing father and dote on his babies. Daughters. He had the soft, protective heart for having daughters and would have the ability to put the fear of God in unworthy boyfriends. A year is the soonest he said he'd propose. That would put it around Christmas. He might propose at New Years. That would be so romantic, but at the same time he didn't quite seem like the type to use the hype of a holiday. He was more the traditional, quiet type who would propose on a regular day and make it romantic and special. Her heart fluttered. It would be simple, but he'd pour his whole heart into it. She swallowed hard. Even if it was nothing more than a speech, with the depth that he felt emotions, he could shift her entire universe with his heart.

His gorgeous blue eye fell to her. "Em?"

Oh how she'd come to adore that pet name from him. "Hm?" she sighed, lost in his gaze.

"I asked if you want juice," her mom said.

She turned her head. Her mom held a pitcher hovering over an empty glass. "Oh, yes, please." She flushed and glanced at him. A tender smile softened his face, as if he knew she'd been daydreaming about him.


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, CRB, YazminXD, Thedreamsicle, Waya17, Singingsilent, and Cloelius Princess!**

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she knocked on the den door. Going in slow and with notice would give Jason a chance to move if he sat on the sofa to the left - the burned side of his face would be toward the door.

"Come in!" Nana called.

She slowly opened the door. An abandoned plate with half eaten eggs and cut up toast rested on the coffee table to Nana's right. His mask lay on the table near Nana's dentures. A small trashcan perched in the floor between their seats filled with used napkins. He stood on the other side of the room near her dad's desk. Nana continued gumming her eggs. This might be good that Nana had trouble eating too - it might make him feel less different. On the other hand, it might make him feel like a geriatric. Or as if he and Nana were being segregated. She glanced at Jason's profile when he reached up and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm just checking if either of you need anything."

Nana shook her head.

"No, thank you, sweetheart." His words contained that whispiness without the mask or gauze to be his lip, but he didn't seem tense.

"Can I talk to you for a second in the living room, Jason? You don't need your mask."

"Of course. Excuse me," he told Nana, who had to wipe some dribble.

She turned and stepped out to give him privacy to manuever into the living room. The door clicked shut. When his hand brushed over her back, she turned and searched his profile. Her hand slipped into his. "Nana means well. I think that she hopes to make you more comfortable because she gets a bit embarrassed eating in front of people. She's stubborn and won't go see an oral surgeon," she rushed out. "It just occurred to me that it might come across like you and Nana are being segregated." His brow furrowed. "It's not like that. Nana wants to make you feel comfortable, Mom is feeling bad that you can't eat with everyone, and I'm feeling guilty that maybe I'm giving you the wrong message that I won't eat with you. I know you don't feel comfortable eating with me and I - "

Both of his hands engulfed her hand. "Whoa, Emma." A light smile touched his lips. "Please don't feel guilty, and tell your mom not to feel bad. I'd never think that anyone here has anything but the best of intentions." He cradled her cheek with such tenderness. The touch of his hand calmed her racing heart. "But thank you for making sure there wasn't a misunderstanding, sweetheart." His smile faded. "Nana has such severe jaw bone loss without any socket grafting." Deep sympathy for Nana clouded his eye.

"Socket grafting?" she frowned.

"When teeth are extracted, there's nothing there anymore to stimulate the bone and keep it from absorbing itself. When my teeth were pulled, he filled the jaw bone with bone grafting material so my bone doesn't deteriorate. Nana's mouth collapses in so bad because of the bone loss."

"It can't be reversed, can it?"

"No, but perhaps it can be slowed down or stopped. I talked to Nana, and I think she's willing to see an oral surgeon." Of course he'd talked Nana into it when no one else had been able to convince the stubborn woman. "I'm honored that she's willing to eat with me and not be embarrassed, Emma." A smile softened his face. "I love that you want to dine with me and don't think a thing of how unsightly my eating can be or that my speech is impaired."

The ache in her heart intensified and tears burned behind her eyes. "Don't," she whispered and pulled a hand free to stroke his cheek. "Don't talk about yourself like that. It breaks my heart, Jay." She swallowed hard and searched his face for any crack to let her in. "Those things don't bother me, they're just hard to see you struggle with. Otherwise, I think no more of them than of you having two arms." She stepped closer, keeping to his left side, and curled her arms around his waist.

"I know, Emma, but the self-consciousness will always be there because there are those physical differences between us," he said, his voice so quiet and solemn.

Pain burst deep inside. Why couldn't he see how deeply he was loved?

"The self-consciousness doesn't exist in there with Nana because we're practically in each other's shoes." He reached his time limit and pulled away a bit to turn and wipe his mouth.

A warm tear trickled down her cheek that he didn't want her to see. That the bond still wasn't there to make him feel safe to attend to his mouth in her presence. "Jason?" Her voice cracked, and she laid a hand on his arm. "You don't have to hide from me. What am I doing wrong that I make you feel ashamed?" Her voice faded when his gaze fell, pulling her heart down with it. She shouldn't pressure him.

"You're not doing anything wrong. I can only imagine how I'd be climbing the walls wanting to help too if things were reversed." His eye shifted to meet hers. Profound sadness poured from his eye, making his beautiful blue gaze pierce right to her heart. "There are some things I need you to not see so I can feel like a man with you, feel like I have some dignity with you." He squeezed her hand when her face fell and she shook her head. "I know that seems like a wall and as if I don't trust you. There are some things I need you to know about but not see - it builds trust when you honor those, Emma."

She held his gaze, and he caught another tear that threatened to spill over her lashes. "I don't want you to feel alone. I can't stand seeing you suffer feeling so alone like this."

He squeezed her hand. "Please, Emma," he begged, with so much pain in every line of his face. "I would rather the world see my face and all the humiliation that comes with it instead of you seeing it. You're the one person who means the most to me - the one I cannot bear to be weak and humiliated in front of."

Her heart pounded. She had to make him understand that she was safe. A barrier like this would erode everything between them until there was nothing left over time. "Why is it weakness? Why isn't it letting me help you bear these burdens? Please," she whimpered and reached up to cup the unburned side of his face. "I love you."

When he caught her wrist and lowered her hand, she stared with wide eyes. Hurt and confusion battled to race to the surface. Why was he doing this?

"I know you don't understand." His eye looked down as he stroked the back of her hand in his. "Please don't make me beg," he whispered. "I would give you anything, Emma. But even in marriage, seeing my face and these things that come with it is a line I will not cross."

It was said quiet and calm, just like him, but he'd just laid down the law. If she married him, it was his one condition. And there was no doubt that intentionally breaking that condition would break the marriage.

She took a step back, needing the distance, and wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold. He had every right to his request, but it still hurt. Oh so painfully it cut. It was her own fault for not believing him from the beginning. Her gaze focused on the floor because one look at him would bring back the tears. "Is Nana still making baby comments?" Her voice rang flat. Perhaps he was set in stone about not having children too. She couldn't allow Nana to continue pressuring him.

"No, she hasn't said anything during breakfast." His tone portrayed no emotion. "She only makes comments when you're around to see what they evoke."

Her face burned and she closed her eyes in humiliation. He'd seen through her plan with Nana. "I'm sorry. I'll tell her to stop it. I thought...well, it doesn't matter." Her heart grew so heavy it plummeted to her feet.

"You're shutting down, Emma. Tell me what you thought." His hands reached out and rubbed her upper arms.

"You'd be a wonderful father. I thought you were starting to change your mind about wanting babies." Her voice cracked. "I just picture you with daughters because you're so gentle. I could see them love climbing on you or curling up in your arms when they're scared." The tears fell from the wrenching heartbreak.

He pulled her into his arms, and his fingers combed through her hair. Heartache thickened his voice. "I do want babies - that's not the problem, sweetheart. Daughters would be as beautiful as you, with your dark hair and big eyes." Then his stroking slowed. "Little girls fear me most," he whispered.

She shook her head. "Our babies would grow up knowing you and that you're kind. They wouldn't fear you any more than I do. Don't base it on strangers' children, Jason." Why did he believe himself such a beast?

"I've said before that my wife would have to be alright with mostly single parenting once the children are old enough to fear me. I'd work at night to continue providing but keep out of sight." He brushed a kiss over her forehead and took a steadying breath. "I shouldn't keep Nana waiting." Then he let go, seeming to wait for her to leave so he could return to the den without exposing the scars.

She turned, too heartbroken to face him. "Has Nana seen your face?" Tears welled in her eyes, and she hugged herself tight. Of course he'd let Nana see, just like he let Trudy, Pete, her mom, the dentist, doctors and nurses see, but he needed to say it. She needed to hear it. He needed to face what his wall was doing to their relationship.

Silence.

His answer didn't surprise, but it cut deeper than expected. Her face crumpled and she bowed her head, covering a hand over her mouth to hold back the tears. When his hand touched her shoulder, she walked out and disappeared into her bedroom to cry alone.

* * *

She had no one but herself to blame for this heartbreak. Part of her wanted more than anything to lash out and blame him, but that would be selfish and put unfair pressure on him to cave in. He would too - he had such a soft heart that enough tears would make him give in on anything. And then he'd resent her afterwards.

Her mom drove them to the airport. Nana rode shotgun to get out of the house, and she and Jason sat in the back. His hand slipped into hers across the empty seat. She had done her best to avoid him in the past hour since breakfast. Talking would only cause a fight or him to feel guilty. Now would come the long, tortorous plane ride.

He leaned forward and tried to catch her eye while Nana and her mom chatted. "Emma, you look like you're on the verge of tears. I didn't mean to hurt you like this." His voice held so much regret and compassion.

She shook her head and pressed her lips together as her face crumpled.

"Emma, are you alright?" her mom asked and frowned in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah." She looked out her window and let her hair fall to shield her face from everyone's eyes. When she tried to pull her hand out of his to brush away her tears, he held tight. She tugged again, and he let go. Heat radiated to her right.

He'd shifted to sit in the middle seat, and his arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Don't cry," he whispered.

"Not here," she pleaded and took a deep breath.

He removed his arm, but the concern vibrated off of him.

It wasn't fair to make him worry like this. She pulled her cell out of her purse to text a private conversation and not leave him distressed.

 _I know it seems like I'm pouting and trying to pressure you. I need space so I don't cry. It was a stupid girlish fantasy that you'd change your mind, so I never believed that there'd be the wall during marriage or that there'd be separate lives if kids came. I just need to hurt right now and get over it._

She stuck her phone back in her purse to make it clear this wasn't the place for a discussion. Her eyes stared out the side window again.

His phone chirped, and he pulled it out. A moment later, he set his phone in her lap.

 _I didn't think you're pouting - I know you well enough to realize you're hurting that deeply right now. There is no 'just getting over it.' It's a lifestyle that no one wants, and I realize it's unfairly asking a lot of you. It's a painful pill you'd have to swallow if we wed, but I honestly believe it would make you and the children happier, if you still want us to marry. You deserve to realize it now what life would be like rather than be trapped after marriage. If the children feared me, I would still come to you at night to talk and help with parenting as much as possible, if you didn't fear me. If you see my face, you'll have horrible nightmares, and you won't want me to console you. I couldn't handle hearing your screams because of me, and you don't deserve to be that terrified in your own home. Either you and the children, or I would move to a different house._

The pain transformed to anger. She erased his draft and punched in a response.

 _You so conveniently forget that a monster played with me. You're a kitten in comparison. I could just as easily say you don't want to be around much because you don't want to be reminded you have a used wife. Or you just want to hold onto bachelor life, and I'd be none the wiser while raising your children._

She tossed the phone in his lap. It was a button of his that she shouldn't push, but the hurt made her want him to be just as bothered by all of this. He seemed like it didn't bother him overly much to abandon her once he did his 'duty' of getting her pregnant. Even though she didn't turn to look at him, his glare burned her back.

His arm curled around the back of her seat as he leaned in. "Don't you dare say that. You know that's not what I think, and you're just trying to piss me off," he growled.

She gave him a pointed look. "Then don't tell me that I'm going to think you're a monster. A scar is goddamn skin," she hissed.

His jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. "You know your history already makes you fear men. Adding my face in is not a safe mix," he breathed, his temper obviously climbing.

Her eyes narrowed.

He sat back, looking ready to explode, but didn't press the matter in these public quarters.

At the airport, the woman at the desk said, "I'm sorry, your seats were split. I have one in coach and one in first class."

"That's fine," she jumped in. A break from the tension would be good before they got in a public argument on the plane.

He glared at her for a moment, but he held his tongue and threw up a hand. "Fine," he told the stewardess. He gave her the first class ticket and then grabbed their suitcases.

She grabbed her duffle bag from his shoulder and took her small suitcase on wheels out of his hand. "I can load my own things."

He seemed to bite his tongue. "Do you have PMS or something?" he ground out between his teeth and manuevered through the crowd with his own suitcase.

"No. Aren't you lucky?" she said with a cocktail of sweetness and sarcasm. That was a lie. PMS would last another day or two, but men used it as an excuse to brush off a woman's feelings. He didn't need to know about it. So much for not taking out her hurt and anger on him. At the moment, PMS made ripping his head off sound really nice, so he was a lucky dog to still be alive.

On the plane, the stewardess pointed one direction for her seat and the opposite direction for his. He seemed reluctant to part all of the sudden. "Come get me if anyone gives you trouble. And don't talk to business men in first class. They can get drunk and indecent sometimes."

It hurt. Deep inside her chest in a sane non-PMS corner of her heart, it twisted over his concern. At the same time, this was a glimpse of his version of their married, separate lives. "I thought you'd be leaving me on my own with the kids," she shrugged. "If someone gives me trouble, it's better to figure out now how to handle it instead of while juggling a baby." Only, instead of an irritated glare in response, hurt reflected in his eye. Her words cut off at his unexpected reaction.

"I need you to take your seats," the stewardess said. The crowd behind pushed them in the separate directions.

She sat in her seat and stared at her cell phone after takeoff, waiting for the announcement that the phones could turn on or passengers could walk around. His pained looked haunted. Guilt gnawed. She had to talk to him and apologize. The announcement came for phones. She sat beside a rotund man in an aisle seat and shifted a bit to use both hands to text faster.

Commotion stirred from behind.

"Sir! Sir! You have to stay in your seat," a female voice said in distress.

"If we're going to crash, we'll all die, seatbelts or not," a deep baritone drawled.

She froze and her heart took off. That voice. She turned in her seat. Jason strode down the aisle with two stewardesses chasing after him. Everyone stared at the man in the mask breaking the seatbelt rule. His eye searched the cabin and then landed on her. His gaze and stride oozed power and determination. And a man in love. Her heart stumbled.

He unbuckled her and took her hand to pull her to her feet in one swift motion. She stood with her chest pressed against his. "Jason, you can't just break the rules."

He cupped her face in his hand, his lips just inches away. "Screw the rules. I want a real life with you. I want the picket fence and two-and-a-half babies. I don't know how or if it'll work, but I want it, Emma. I don't want to sit in the back away from you for the rest of our lives."

"Sir, you must sit in your seat - " a stewardess pressed.

He glared at the woman, who shrank back a little. "I'm trying to woo the lady. This is important before she jumps out of the plane and never speaks to me again." Then he turned his gaze back to her, his face softening.

"Jason, don't change what you want because I made you feel guilty."

"I changed my mind because I love you. I want to be in your life, not just a blip in it for an hour or two a day. Show me, Emma. Show me how we reach this life you see for us, because I can't see it."

Tears blurred him and slipped down her cheeks. Part of his wall was crumbling, and it was so beautiful to see his heart that beat beneath.

"Be my eyes when I'm blind. You've shown me what I never thought could exist." His eye searched hers with so much love. "I want more - I want that fantasy with you, Em. I want your dream. It's going to be hard and I'm going to fall, but wait for me to follow you."

A choked sob escaped her. Words wouldn't come, so she nodded. His face glowed with such pure happiness she'd never witnessed in another human being. And then he kissed her - long and passionate and beautiful.

The cabin erupted with claps and cheers. Whispers of a couple just getting engaged traveled around.

She smiled as he brushed away her tears. It wasn't quite a marriage proposal, but it would have beautifully passed for one. It was a promise of a proposal, and it melted her heart in his hands so completely. "I love you."

"I love you too, Emma," he whispered against her lips and rested his forehead against hers. "I love you more than I can ever say."

"Sir, you aren't allowed in first class," the other stewardess piped up.

He swung her up in his arms with a smile. "My dear Emma, I fear you must downgrade to coach." Except the aisle was too small to fit through without kicking people in the head. He sighed and set her down. "Sweeping you out isn't quite as romantic as I envisioned it." He grabbed her hand and led her along, her smile enough to send her heart flying.

In the coach section, he had an aisle seat on the side. He sat and pulled her into his lap. His hands locked around her waist. Apparently he had no intention of letting her free anytime soon. She flushed hard in embarrassment but couldn't stop smiling as everyone watched.

"Ahh, you found you bonnie lass," a man with red hair said from the seat across the aisle. "A fine one she is."

He held her eyes, his gaze brimming with love. "Aye, as bonnie as they come. Ay'm a lucky fellow. Ay plan ta make 'er my bride," he whispered. Then he brushed a soft kiss over her lips that promised love beyond a lifetime.


	35. Chapter 35

Almost two weeks later, Prince kept her feet toasty as he snoozed with a sock in his mouth in her apartment office. She nibbled on the end of a pencil while working on her first case - for nearly the entire past two weeks. Olin grew impatient for this urgent case and wanted results in two more days. It would be easier teaching Prince to leave socks alone than to figure this out by then.

The cell rang on the desk. She grabbed it without looking. "Hoplin." It kept ringing...from her desk. She tossed aside the secure cell the FBI had given for work calls. These damn currency numbers were not adding up with what the computer agent had hacked from the bank website this morning. Pounding the numbers into a spreadsheet to program functions and start autocalculating, she snatched her personal cell and tucked it against her shoulder to keep working. "Hoplin."

"Hoplin? Since when do you answer the phone like that?" a deep voice said, the frown evident.

She sighed. Great. Besides the pressure of the case, Jason called daily. And she avoided face-to-face contact with him like the plague. She shouldn't want to be at his home to be able to get work done every day. She shouldn't need him at night to fall back asleep after nightmares. She needed to learn to be self-sufficient. "I've answered like that since the guys have been giving me shit for being a rookie woman. Jason, I really can't talk right now." Ugh, the formulas weren't calculating in the spreadsheet either.

"Emma," he cut in with patience, "it's six P.M. on Tuesday. You haven't been able to talk since we got back nearly two weeks ago."

"Because I'm busy trying to prove I can handle the work. If I crack this case, there'll probably be less pressure with the next one." She heaved a sigh and mumbled under her breath. Even tweaking the equation, these calculations still didn't bring an answer any closer.

"Emma? Can I just have five minutes?" His tone seemed...hurt.

She sat back in the chair and pulled two pencils out of her messy ponytail. "What?" She leaned her elbow on the armrest and held her head.

"Would you tell me if we're not alright?"

"What?" A frown tightened her brow.

"You haven't talked to me for more than five minutes since we got back. Perhaps I'm being a dense male, but I'm still not sure why you stood me up on Sunday. I thought we were alright after our conversation on the plane." So much hurt filled his voice.

She blinked. "Stood you up?"

"Remember on the plane we said we'd see that new movie on Sunday at the three o'clock showing in your town? You said you wanted to just meet me there..." His voice faded away. "You don't remember, do you?"

The romantic comedy his sweet heart had offered to treat her to. Her eyes widdened. "Oh my gosh, Jason, I'm sorry. Why didn't you call me?"

"I texted in case you were on a call and asked if you were coming. You texted, 'I'm busy.'"

Oh no. He'd texted, 'Are we seeing a movie?' She dropped her face in her hand. "Oh, Jason, I'm sorry. I was only half paying attention and thought you were asking about going to one, not that you were there."

"It's alright, Emma." The relief in his voice flooded through the phone. "Is there anything I'm allowed to help you with for work?"

"No," she sighed. "If I'm too stupid to figure this out myself, I shouldn't have the job."

"You're not stupid, Em," he scolded. "You worked through the weekend. You need a break. What if I come over and make you dinner?"

She smiled at his sweetness and patience. "Thanks, but I have two days until deadline, and I'm not even half way through the case."

"Sometimes when I get stuck, I need to go for a run or something. It sounds like you're banging your head against the wall. You need a break. Go walk across the street and grab some ice cream. I'll meet you there and let you go after fifteen minutes, I promise."

He meant to be helpful, but this was eating into valuable time. "I can't. I need to go, Jason. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He seemed to hesitate. "At the risk of sounding clingy, I'm going to just say it. I miss you, Em. You claim you aren't having nightmares from the trial, which I don't believe. You're avoiding me. Something is going on, and I'm worried about you. Hit me with it. Tell me what's going on."

She took a shakey breath and held back the tears. The nightmares were awful, making her wake up screaming several times a night. The lonely apartment was awful. Work was awful. Everything was awful. But she wasn't a two year old who needed to climb into his bed to sleep or be at his house to work. She was too dependent on him. Rubbing her weary eyes, she stared out the window.

"Sweetheart? I get the feeling you're avoiding me. Why don't I pick you up, and you can work here? When you're at a stopping point, we can talk. You can stay tonight if you're going to be working late. I promise to leave you alone in the study." A twinge of hurt colored his tone. When she didn't say anything, his voice grew quiet. "I know I asked once that you make it apparent rather than blindside me if you wanted to break up...should I know that's where this is going?"

Her heart wrenched. He sounded so hurt. "No, Jay. I'm just really busy." That sounded lame - not even fifteen minutes to spare for him?

Silence. "Do you just want to call me tomorrow if you have time?"

She ran a hand over her ponytail. Every night he'd called and she'd blown him off. He was finally giving up. This all bothered him more than he'd let on until tonight. He hurt so much that it even pulsated through the phone. She was sending the wrong message and needed to just admit the truth, no matter how embarrassing. "Don't you think we're too codependent?"

It wasn't hard to envision him blinking. "No. I liked how we...well, I'm clearly suffocating you. I'm sorry, Emma. I - "

He was shutting down and taking it the wrong way. Her heart quickened. "No, I just shouldn't need you to sleep or need to be at your house to focus on damn work."

"'Should' is a subjective term, Emma. Codependency isn't a bad thing as long as we can still function separately - "

She threw up a hand. "But I can't! I should be able to sleep and work without you." She got up and started pacing.

"We're talking about extreme situations. You just got back from an attempted rape trial and your ex pulled a gun on you in court. Of course you aren't sleeping well and want someone else around. This new job is high stress and you just moved to a new apartment. The environment affects how your brain thinks. Your brain is already trained to work here because you've done work here. It will take some time for that focus to happen at your place." He made it all sound so matter of fact.

"Why do you have to be so damn reasonable?" She sighed and dropped into the chair.

He chuckled. "Why do you overthink things like this and make it harder on yourself? If you're dead set on this, what if I bring my work and stay over tonight? I can crash on the couch, and maybe you'll sleep better. Perhaps if we mimic me working in the next room like at my place, you'll concentrate better...is this stemming from me needing my own room in Florida? Because that is a freakish thing about me, it has nothing to do with you or you being around too much, sweetheart."

She had to laugh as the words came pouring out of him. He seemed almost giddy with relief that it wasn't about them breaking up or her being angry. "Would you mind?"

He snorted. "Would I mind? I don't know. Having to stay with my hot FBI girlfriend and maybe makeout sounds like a hardship." The smile leaked through in his voice. "I'll be there within an hour, love."

* * *

She sat at her desk the next morning in a nightgown and ran her hands through her tangled hair. These numbers made a little more sense after getting more than four hours of sleep - once Jason had come into bed after a particularly graphic nightmare.

"Em, it's six." He yawned and padded up from behind, wearing just his dark green pajama bottoms and keeping the right side of his face out of view. A large hand slipped over her shoulder and cupped her breast. He leaned over and nibbled just under her ear. "I planned on waking you up." Huskiness and sleep roughened his voice. There was a slight whispinesss to his words - he must not be even wearing gauze over his mouth.

She sighed. "Jason, my deadline is tomorrow."

"And you're too stressed to look at it from a new angle." His hand glided down and cupped between her legs while he nibbled her earlobe.

Heat pooled between her thighs, and her breasts tightened in pleasure. Her breath hitched and she grabbed the lip of the desk when his fingers stroked. Her heart thundered as heat swept over her body. "I'm serious," she panted.

"A thirty minute appointment is all I ask." His voice purred as smooth as silk. "You didn't let me even kiss you yesterday."

Her head fell to the side and eyes drifted shut as his magic took hold. She reached up and held his burned shoulder to keep him close. "Jay," she sighed.

"Let me relieve some of your tension, sweetheart."

Shivers ran down her spine from his hot breath. Her head fell back on his shoulder from the warmth of his hand cupping her breast.

"Come back to bed and curl up with me," he breathed and grazed his hands down to hers. Then he pulled her to her feet and pressed his chest to her back. He seemed satisfied with her moan - his hands skimmed down her sides. HIs touch skimmed back up her bare skin, over her hips and up her waist to stop at her ribs. His arousal pressed against her bottom. The pleasure made him just as breathless as her.

It was like a craving to need his touch. Her arm wrapped around to bury her fingers in his hair.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered in awe. Then one hand wandered to carress her ribs and belly through the nightgown.

The flush of desire swept up, making her body hum with desire. "Oh god, Jason. Take me right here on the desk."

"Em - "

"I'll marry you today," she panted. The pleasure coiled.

He pressed a hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her down to lean her hands on the desk. Then he grasped her hips and pulled to stick her bottom out.

Her heart pounded with excitement. Was he going to make love? All of the sudden, her heart froze. No, it was alright. Jason would be gentle.

The lust returned when he kissed her neck. When his nails raked down her spine though the nightgown, delicious shivers zipped throughout her body. Her fingers curled, biting into her palms. She bit her lip to hold back the cries of pleasure. "Jay, please," she begged.

His forearm wrapped around her hips, and his hand rubbed.

Panting hard, her body quivered. "Jason," she gasped and rose onto her toes. She spun around with her eyes closed and captured his lips, shoving him up against the wall. He seemed surprised. When her tongue dove into his mouth and her hand skimmed over his erection through his pants, he gasped and his hips jerked.

"Emma, I don't trust myself not to take you," he panted.

"You won't if you're watching me please you," she purred and sank to her knees.

"Oh dear god," he panted, sounding truly in pleasurable agony.

Sprinkling light kisses on him through his pajamas and boxers couldn't have actually been very physically stimulating. It seemed to be more than enough mentally arousing, though, because he moaned and hardened. His fingers buried in her hair and held tight. His hips started thrusting. "Emma," he whimpered.

She rose to her feet and kissed him.

He growled and spun them around to pin her against the wall. His hips pressed into hers, and his hands slammed against the wall on each side of her head. She brushed a kiss against his lips. He broke the kiss and gasped something in another language, burying his face against her shoulder as his nails scratched against the wall and his hands fisted. His chest heaved.

When he lifted his head once his body was under control, she closed her eyes. He didn't say a word, but caught her hand and guided it up. He took two of her fingers. And held them to the burned side of his lips.

She startled at first and jerked her hand away, the instinct so ingrained to not touch that it elicited panic. "You said I can't - " He didn't say anything but took her hand again. Her heart raced with love and fear and nervousness.

He guided her hand to stroke only the upper lip. The skin was a bit tough and warped from the scarring, not much more detailed than what her lips felt during kisses. Then he traced her finger around his bottom lip.

The guiding of her fingers went down, down, down. Her brow furrowed in confusion from the image he painted. Then he stopped and his other hand drew a horizontal line across her fingers. His chin line - he was drawing it across her fingers to show how low his lip pulled. It was as if a chunk of lip the width and shape of her finger had been cut out. Her face crumpled. No wonder why he had such problems.

"I don't understand. Why is it just there that's missing?" Her voice quivered with tears.

"The beam splintered into my lip when it hit. The skin got necrosis from the fire and damage, so the surgeon cut out what would've caused gangrene." His voice held no emotion.

Her chest heaved with a silent cry. He'd never said it had happened after the fire. "Is this one of the surgeries from before you woke up?" Silence. "After she left?" Her voice cracked. Tears slipped down her cheeks. He'd gone through it alone. So much pain and fear he'd endured alone as his body had become more and more mangled.

"This is what you kiss," he whispered, the pain and fear of revulsion impregnating his voice.

She frowned and didn't pull her hand away from his mouth. "Why are you showing me?"

"You should have some idea of what you marry." He kept ahold of her hand, as of to control that it didn't wander, but allowed her fingers to explore his lip.

"Who, not what, Jay." At the bottom of his lip, something warm and wet got on her fingers. Oh god, no. Saliva. He'd shut down.

His head jerked away and he pulled her hand down. "Sorry." Soft cotton wiped her fingers. A tissue. The humiliation vibrated off of him. He dropped her hand.

"Jay - " She reached for him but encountered nothing but thin air. Click. The bathroom door down the hall closed. She heaved a shakey sigh and opened her eyes. With every step forward, something always seemed to make him take a step back. He'd taken a leap even though he expected she couldn't desire his kisses now. The dear man wanted her to grasp what life would be like with him while she still had a chance to run. So she'd show him exactly what direction she'd run.

She returned to the office before he did. The low scooping orange and white stripped tank nicely hugged her breasts, the short orange skirt lended itself to her bottom, and the white stilettos created mile-long legs. Fate must've been smiling because her hair cooperated into an artistically messy - yet sexy - ponytail.

His footsteps creaked down the hall, and he reappeared in the doorway minutes later. He wore slacks, a white dress shirt, and the half mask. A blink of surprise and lust flashed across his face. "Where are you going?"

She shrugged and sat, with perfect sexy gracefulness, if she did say so herself. "We should get ice cream. Your idea, remember?" She looked up from beneath hooded lids and made a point of crossing her legs

Regret shined in his eye. "My apologies. I shouldn't have subjected you to that," he said, referencing his mouth.

In one swift move she shot up, strode over, and shoved him back against the wall with a dark look. Grabbing his mask, she closed her eyes and pulled it off to drop it on the floor. She crushed her lips against his warm, soft mouth. Her hand cupped his smooth, freshly shaven cheek, and her other hand pulled off the bandage on the corner of his lips. Her tongue dove inside his deliciously hot mouth as she hiked her skirt up to curl her leg around his hip.

The man growled deep in his throat and cupped her thigh to keep her leg there. His arousal pressed. In these heels, he pressed in just the right spot. The fingers of his other hand dug into her bottom while his chest heaved against her breasts.

She licked his mouth, running her tongue across his mangled lips and flicked over where his lip was missing. He moaned and his body melted against her. Turning around, she tilted her neck to the side and kept her exposed bottom pressed against him. "Kiss me." Her wet kiss hid any trouble his mouth was giving him by now. His hot lips closed over her neck. His tongue swirled electricity down her body. She sighed with desire and caught his hands to cup her breasts and squeezed.

"Emma," he panted.

She stepped out of his arms and walked toward the door, taking her time pulling down her skirt so he'd have a teasing view of the last inch or two of her bottom. "Come. Let's get ice cream. I feel like licking a cone, Dr. Port," she purred and turned to glance over her shoulder without looking at his exposed face.

"Oh god," he moaned in agony.

"You're right, by the way." She ran her thumb over her lower lip. His gaze could be felt carressing up her body to drink in every inch. "Subjecting me to your mouth isn't a good idea - it makes me think of you kissing me in unmentionable places," she purred and then ran her tongue over her lip. It would be wonderful to see the lust in his eye.

"God save me," he breathed and strode over in a hurry. "I'm watching you eat that cone - even if it kills me."


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: Thanks for the feedback, everyone!**

 **Yep, exactly what I was trying to do, YazminXD! :)**

 **Waya17: Yes, they probably wouldn't let Emma sit in his lap on a plane, but we only saw a few seconds of that closing scene. Plus, we already know that Jason is willing to break airline rules a bit when it comes to her. A stewardess probably kicked her off within moments after that scene. :)**

 **The sudden shift to her distance in the previous chapter was intentional for a couple purposes. She has the ability for reason to overrule emotions temporarily. We've seen this here and there where she tries to talk herself out of an emotion, but here she actually forces herself into something that she thinks will rescue their relationship from a codependency problem she thinks is developing. She wanted to cut a problem at the root before it became an issue. She values the relationship and is willing to let reason rule to save it. It also shows that even though Jason was confused by the sudden shift in their dynamics, the relationship is strong enough that he was willing to hang in there for a couple weeks and trust they were alright before he started pushing her for answers. They have the trust to give each other space like that without feeling threatened. These things will be important in upcoming chapters.**

 **Cloelius Princess: check your PM. :) I had to get through some things in the other chapters because they can't emotionally progress super fast all the sudden. I think you'll like this chapter.**

* * *

She stood in her old bedroom at his house and finished buttoning on one of Jason's white shirts.

"I can get this tomato sauce right out of this summer dress, don'tcha know." Trudy smiled.

"Thank you. What time is Pete picking him up from the airport?" She nibbled her lip and glanced at a clock.

"He's due back from his business trip in an hour. I'll have this right as a pig's nail so you're nice and hairpin pretty when he arrives." Trudy swept out of the room with the yellow dress.

The shirttails fell to her knees. She couldn't very well wander the house like this, so she rolled up the sleeves to her elbows and picked up the featherduster to finish the room for Trudy.

Her self-sufficiency plan had died at 3:01 pm at just thirteen days old. That had been a month ago. Now Pete picked her up at half past seven each morning while Jason was on business calls with the east coast. Jason would ride along to take her home. Her cases came together faster working in her old study, and Jason seemed to love her being around every day again. Life, in a nutshell, was great.

She flipped on the radio on her cell phone. 'Everything' started playing. She smiled. A little old fashioned, but it sounded like the old big band music Jason would've liked. The happy energy was perfect for dancing while dusting. Swinging her hips, she started with dusting the mantle and singing along. It must've been an old music station because a fast-paced old tune came on next.

She spun on one foot and danced around so fast she almost tripped herself. Prince just looked up when she hopped over him. Sweeping the featherduster over more surfaces, she danced like a crazy maniac. Her heart beat fast and felt so light. Jumping on the bed, she sang into the handle of the featherduster to belt out the last notes. She panted but the energy was still bursting inside.

'Feeling Good' came on next, a perfect sexy contrast to the previous song. She hopped off the bed and sashayed across the room to the beat toward Prince. A smile curled her lips when the dog looked at her like she was a lunatic. Raising her hands in the air, she wiggled down in a way that would make a man go crazy. Singing with such energy strained her throat a bit, but it was so good to feel this carefree. Straightening with her bottom sticking out in a seductive move, she spun around to belt out a lyric. And squeaked in surprise.

Jason stood in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame with his arms folded over his chest. A lusty, contented grin was plastered on his face. "Please, do not let me interrupt that dance," he said in all earnestness.

She stared with wide eyes. "How long have you been there?"

"Since you turned on the radio." A naughty gleam lit up his eye.

The blood drained from her face. Oh god, the earth needed to swallow her up.

The sexy beat still played over the radio. He shut the door and started half strutting and half dancing over to her, letting his suit jacket slide down his arms. Tossing it on the bed, he started losening his tie as he approached.

Her heart raced, and she giggled. He was doing a soft strip tease.

He pulled off the tie with a smile and swung it in one hand while his other undid the top couple buttons of his shirt. When he reached her, he held the tie in both hands and looped it over her head to hook around her back. He pulled her closer to press against her. His hand took hers in a dance hold, but his thigh pressed between her legs and hers between his from their bodies being so close. That hard, muscled body wiggled against hers as he danced with her without moving his feet.

A flush swept up her face. Dear heaven, this man should be a sin. This dance should be a sin even though he didn't do anything inappropriate. She melted when dipped her backwards in his arms and took his time uprighting her, kissing his way up the column of her neck. When his eye met hers, she breathed hard. His lips were a hairsbreath away - his glorious lips that could weave hypnotizing magic.

"Tell me you missed me the last twenty four hours." His deep baritone oozed smooth and creamy.

She couldn't manage anything but a shy smile.

A satisfied smile played on his face. "Why are you half naked, princess?" He still didn't fully upright her.

"I spilled tomato sauce on my dress. Trudy's washing it." She giggled like a silly teenage girl meeting her popstar crush.

"Welcome me home like this every time, and I'll buy you a dozen new dresses each time."

"Set me up, you goon." She laughed and swatted his chest. When he did, she had to grab handfuls of his shirt to keep her knees from buckling. "Was this the trip for the patent?"

His arms held her steady, and he smiled. "A couple days ago. Yesterday was something else."

It must've gone well. "And?"

He grinned and pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket. "The FDA and Europe approved the patents."

"No! Really?!" she squealed. "You said they'd reject them because some paperwork was missing."

A hearty chuckle bubbled up from his chest. "Dr. McLeod felt so bad he missed that part of his paperwork that he's spent the last six weeks pulling strings. I guess he pulled the right one." He held up a paper. "This, my dear, are the first set of profits because the clinical trials were so good. Legal fees and such need to come out too, and this needs to get split up amongst the investors, mind you." He handed her the paper.

She unfolded it. Her mouth fell open at the profit, and she looked up at him.

He chuckled and tucked it in his pocket. "I say we go celebrate your job now that you're not crazy busy, and the past two years of sweat and tears for this patent."

* * *

She walked on his arm down the quiet street in town and sipped on a milkshake. The man had a weakness for ice cream.

"Isn't it melting, sweetheart?" He smiled.

"I can't down it all in one gulp like you." She took a final sip. He took the empty cup to carry himself. "You don't have to carry my trash." She frowned and reached for it.

He held it away. "It's just having manners. We'll pass a garbage can on the corner. How is work going?"

She relented and simply enjoyed walking on his arm in the morning summer sun. "Good. Remember the analyst giving me a hard time?"

"Which one?" he growled. He looked straight ahead, but subtle anger hardened his face.

A flush of embarrassment crept up. "Most of them are getting better now that I've solved two cases that had stumped them all."

"Don't make excuses for them being sexist," he grumbled. "I'd punch their damn faces if they were here."

She smiled at his protectiveness. "They're not that bad. Anyways, he asked me for my opinion on his case. He'd probably poke his eye out before admitting to anyone that he asked, but he asked." She smiled up at him.

"It's about time." He kissed her hair. "You're good, and don't let them tell you otherwise. I still can't follow how you figured out what back doors to have the computer guy hack to trace that embezzeled money. That was awesome." He grinned and dropped the empty cup in the trashcan. "I admit, I didn't think you both were going to get out in the two minutes before getting caught."

She laughed. Jason had been on an adrenaline rush, right along with her as he'd watched a hacking into what turned out to be a real mobster's computer system. "You doubt my awesomeness?" She grinned. "I was freaking out too." She laughed.

He stopped and turned to brush a kiss over her lips. "I no longer doubt your awesomeness." He chuckled. "Do you want to go in?" He turned her around.

The regal old cathedral church stretched up into the sky. The stone walls spoke of nineteenth century architecture. It's stained glass windows glinted in the sunlight and doors sat wide open, beckoning the people. She'd come here a time or two on her own last winter, but it hasn't seemed quite so beautiful as it did looking at it with him.

GLancing at his watch, it indicated Sunday mass would start in thirty minutes. Turning in surprise, she stared at him. "You want to go to Mass? With people?"

He shrugged, a hint of anxiety in his eye as he focused on the church. "I can't leave you to drag the children to church on your own every Sunday. It's been four years. Maybe it'll be better." He glanced at her.

She smiled and took his hand. "It will be, or I'll break out the crazy lady routine."

A nervous laugh was his only response.

"It will be alright, Jay." She kissed his cheek and then pulled him up the steps.

A priest in his early sixties smiled and walked over from the front of the empty church. "Jason? Are you joining us today instead of Monday?" The priest shook his hand with enthusiasm.

"Trying it. Em, this is Father Bob. Father, this is my girlfriend, Emma." His voice quivered just the slightest bit, probably undetectable by most people. He set a hand on her back.

She shook Father Bob's extended hand.

"Welcome, Emma." Then he clapped a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Anyone who is unkind will answer to me," he said in all protectiveness. "I'll hold Communion afterwards, if you choose. Would you like Reconciliation today?"

He shook his head. "Not today, thank you." The priest patted his shoulder. His hand was clammy when he took hers and led her to the back right corner pew. He stepped aside for her to enter first.

She turned and searched his strained face. "We don't have to do this." He seemed so terrified. When he shook his head, she sighed and knelt before entering the pew. He followed suit and then pulled out the kneeler. She knelt with him to pray, but it was impossible to do anything but worry about him.

His nailbeds whitened under his fierce grip. He sat back after a few seconds, as if too distracted to actually pray either.

Her hand slipped into his and she sat back. "Jason, tell me what happened."

Several seconds ticked as he stared down at his lap and clutched her hand. "Father Bob knows the whole story and my real name, but no one else here does." His voice shook the tiniest bit. "I couldn't wear a mask or anything over my face for a long time while everything healed. I holed up for a year, but coming here was...a relief. I'd come at night to be shrouded in the darkness and sit on the front steps. I was depressed, but I believed that if I kept coming here, I'd start to see my purpose. I couldn't fathom why I hadn't died - I have no family, Charles and Charlotte died, I'd already pulled people out of the fire...I didn't understand the point of me not dying too."

She turned a little to face him and laid a hand on his back. It hurt that he had endured so much alone. But faith had pulled him through when noohing else in his life could have.

"I didn't have the mask yet and couldn't wear anything on my face because the skin grafts were still too fresh. Father Bob sat down on the steps one night, probably thinking I was a lost soul." He touched his chest. "Everything just started pouring out. I told him everything. Absolutely everything. The man probably thought I was crazy. But he looked at me." He met her eyes. "At that time, he was the first one who had ever looked at my new face and saw just me." Awe filled his voice. "He unlocked the church and invited me inside. He asked me to come to church that Sunday." He snorted and leaned his elbows on his knees, letting go of her hand to clasp his together. "I was so stupid and thought everyone here would be just like him, was just as accepting. Twenty minutes into Mass, I couldn't stand the comments and whispers and stares. So I left. Since then, Father Bob leaves the church open for me on Monday mornings and will leave a host for me in the tabernacle if he's unable to be here himself. On occassion, he holds a full Mass just for me." A soft smile of gratitude touched his lips.

Father Bob saw in him what she did. She swallowed hard. That man should conduct the wedding - the man who had taken care of Jason when he'd been lost. Rubbing Jason's back, she frowned. "Perhaps people will be kinder now. I can't imagine there will be much for comments with a mask now either. What is there for them to say about a mask, honey?"

He shook his head and took her hand again, although he didn't straighten. "The world is not as kind as you, Emma."

People started trickling in, and he remained hunched over with his head bowed. She frowned - this wasn't like him to not sit tall and calm. Then her eyes widened as her stomach churned - people stared and whispers started. He had expected this and was trying to keep out of sight as much as possible. They should've come late and snuck in.

A young boy walked past with his brother and parents. "There's the monster who lives on the mountain. He eats bats," the kid snickered.

"Hush, Tommy!" his mother scolded and pulled him along, with a wary glance at Jason.

She sat forward for a private conversation. "Jay, we can go. Or maybe leave and come in late." He shouldn't be subjected to this.

He shook his head. "Late arrivers are ushered to the front. I don't want people whispering about you or the children. If I'm present, the stares and talk will be directed at me instead. Gossip will be old by the time the children arrive."

Tears burned. He offered himself up for sacrifice now in place of his family later. Her heart constricted. She held his hand tighter and leaned down to him. "I'm honored to have such a noble man." She stroked his cheek with the back of her knuckles.

When he turned his head to her, grief filled his eye. "You and the children should not suffer because of me."

"We won't. I don't want you to do this. Come. Let's go home, Jay." She pleaded, but he stared at the floor.

He released a shakey breath and clasped his hand over hers. "Tell me when it's over that you aren't ashamed of me," he whispered and turned his head to look at her with tears in his eye.

She frowned. "Jason, I'm never going to be ashamed of you. Why would you think such a thing?"

"I need you to say it when we get to the car." His voice grew thick.

"Of course. But you don't need to do this to yourself." She brushed at her eyes. When he shook his head, she wrapped an arm around his back and held tight. If he insisted on the torture, she protect him in whatever way possible.

A little girl about four years old stared at him front a couple rows up. Then she walked up to him, her little blonde curls bouncing, and patted his arm. "You can't wear a costume at church," she whispered with a giggle. "Mommy won't let me wear my princess dress."

He cracked a smile and turned his head to look at her on his blind side. "That's right that you probably shouldn't wear a costume at church," he whispered back. "I have an owie and this is like a bandage."

The little doll frowned. "Do you want a kiss? Mommy gives me a kiss and hurting is all gone. Is she your mommy?" A chubby little hand pointed.

He followed her finger and chuckled. "No, she's my girlfriend."

"Oh. My dog is my girlfriend," she stated with pride.

He bit back a laugh. "It's a liberal world, why not?" When a frown of confusion marred that sweet little face, he changed the topic. "You look like a very smart little girl."

That little chest puffed up with pride.

"But do you know what smart little girls must always remember?"

She shook her head, making her blonde curls bounce.

"Never talk to strangers." He held up a finger. "Stranger can mean danger."

Those little hands perched on his leg. "I know you now, so you are not a stranger. You're nice. Do you wanna play ponies with me? Mommy let me bring two."

Before he could respond, the father walked over and scooped her up. "Sorry. Annie, don't be talking to strangers." He strode away with the little girl. She looked over her dad's shoulder and waved.

Jason smiled and waved back.

"Not all little girls fear you," she whispered with a smile.

He glanced at her with a sheepish smile and sat up now that most of the congregation had arrived.

The poor man went through the motions but obviously didn't have his heart in it because he was so tense. He didn't even sing but kept glancing around at the people here and there who would turn and stare for a moment. During the exchange of peace, the people in front of them turned to shake hands. The man blinked in surprise but shook Jason's hand.

The woman froze midreach and just gave him a nod. When the woman turned around, she leaned over and whispered to the man, "I hear he kidnapped that poor woman and seduced her. Now she has some kind of Stockholm Syndrome and stays with him out of pity. I've heard he's burned and looks like some creature."

Jason paled. Her blood boiled. She reached in front of Jason and tapped the man on the shoulder. When the man turned, she asked, "Is this your wife?" He nodded. "I'm sorry." She shook her head in empathy.

The woman spun around in outrage.

She held the woman's glare. "It doesn't feel good to have people assume they know what you're like, does it?"

"Emma," Jason whispered in plea.

"No, I'm sick of just sitting here and taking all the whispers and gossip." She looked at the woman. "Go spread this gossip: I stay with him because I love him, and he is the last one on earth to take advantage of a woman. Winters are very isolated out here, and he is the closest doctor around for miles. I suggest you do not insult the man who might one day have your life in his hands."

The woman harrumphed and turned around.

When a hand slipped into hers and squeezed, she looked up at him.

'Thank you,' he mouthed. And he stood a little taller, a little prouder.

She stayed in the pew with him during Communion when he made no move to go. The priest had mentioned giving it after Mass - he must've realized Jason wouldn't want to walk up in front of all the prying eyes.

Just a few minutes before the end of Mass, Jason stood and took her hand to slip out. He looked at her over his left shoulder and headed for the door. "We'll come back in after everyone is gone. I'd rather not be - "

Someone slipped in through the heavy wood door in front of him on his blind side. "No!" she cried and jerked his hand to try to get him out of the way. But the door slammed into the right side of his face with a loud crack.

He stumbled back into her. Gasps of horror filled the room. She looked over her shoulder to grab a pew to steady them. Dozens of people stared with horrified faces, followed by whispers.

"Ew!"

"Geez, is that really his face?"

"Oh dear Lord."

"Sick, look, man!"

Jason's weight shifted away. Her head whipped around to see if he was alright, but he was gone. The mask lay on the floor in three pieces. Blood covered the edges of where the mask had split on the forehead. Her heart stopped. Everyone had seen him. Oh god, this wasn't happening.

She scooped it up and ran into the vestibule, her heart galloping. He wasn't anywhere in sight. He wouldn't have gone outside without the mask. The rush of running water came from the restroom to the left. Running over, she knocked on the door. "Jason?"

"Let me know when everyone is gone." His voice shook.

"Are you alright?" He didn't say anything. "Jason, there's blood on the mask. Let me help you."

People started coming out after Mass and stared at her. One woman came forward. "I'm a doctor. Is he alright? It sounded like a hard hit."

"I don't know. He won't open the door." She bit her lip and knocked again. The water shut off. "Jason, please let me in. There's a doctor here."

The door unlocked. She looked at the doctor. "Let me go in and see if he'll let you come. His face is burned - "

"Yes, I was sitting in back and saw." The woman's voice held only compassion.

She slipped in.

He sat on the floor against the far wall. His arm propped on his knee and his other held his forehead with a wad of paper towels strategically arranged on his face and scalp. Red blood blossomed at the forehead area and leaking saliva wet the bottom of the paper towels near his mouth.

Her face crumpled. The man who could rescue lost souls, heal a damaged heart, battle the darkest demons...the man who had the courage of a thousand lions and a heart more beautiful than a thousand suns, sat on a bathroom floor in humiliation and despair. His beautiful blue eye - that could instill trust within moments in the most frightened soul - shimmered with unshed tears and rose to her. A silent tear glided down his cheek.

Cupping a hand to her mouth, she held back the sobs. He looked so broken. She dropped to her knees before him. To ask was to be denied, and he needed a human touch more than he understood. His heart called for it - and her ears heard what had been silent until this moment.

Without hesitating, she cupped both sides of his face through the paper towels. The burned side was hard and far less contoured from so much tissue burned off and incomplete bone reconstruction. The layers of paper towels hid any details beyond that.

Panic flashed across his face, but she held his eye. She didn't flinch. She didn't waiver. And she didn't let go. "Nothing could ever make me ashamed of you," she whispered. "I love you."

His other hand reached up to cup hers on his burned cheek. That strong, guiding hand now trembled with fear. The pain in his heart pierced through her. And she wept.

His face crumpled, and his head bowed in defeat as tears began to flow. "They were so horrified. What if you see and react like that? What if you fear me?" He curled up his legs and held his head as he wept too hard to speak.

She climbed into his lap and held him tight, desperate to absorb some of his pain. "Scars do not make up the man, Jason," she cried. "I'm not going to love you any less. Give me a chance to prove it. Let me see you. Let me slay this monster that tortures you."

He shook his head but clutched her like a lifeline as his shoulders shook with silent tears. So she simply held him.

Once he quieted, she dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and dried his tears and then hers. "Did it hit hard enough that you need to be checked for a concussion?" When he shook his head, she held his eye. He seemed to be at war with wanting to push her away and pull her closer. "Let me check if it needs stitches."

"It can't be stitched. The scar tissue is too delicate to hold that kind of tension."

Her eyes dove into his, trying to find him in the sea of pain. "Please, Jason. Let me help. Let me in."

He searched her eyes for a moment and then nodded.

It was a step in the right direction. She got up and washed her hands, glancing at him in the mirror when he stood up. When she turned, he bowed his head a bit for her. Tearing a hole in the papertowel, she took a deep breath without looking. "Did you see it?"

"It's too far on my blind side to get a good look." His free hand held her elbow tight. "Don't faint. Stevens is in the car. He can check it."

"No, I want to do it for you." She took a deep breath and peeked from the corner of her eye. Her stomach churned. "Oh, it's kinda big." Her voice sounded distant. Closing her eyes, she shifted her feet to keep the blood pumping to her head.

"Emma, it's alright. Sit. You're pale."

If she bowed out now, he might think it's because of the scar tissue. Not that it had even been apparent with the gallons of blood gushing. "Give me your phone. I'll take a picture, and you tell me what to do. And don't be all macho if you should be going to the hospital."

He cracked a smile and handed over the phone. When she gave it back, his smile died.

She glanced at the wound. Pink, bubbled skin was exposed a half inch all around the one-inch gash. "Come on, that's not as impressive as your shoulder." She shrugged off the scarring. "So, are we going to the hospital?"

His eye studied her for a moment, as if calculating if it bothered her or not. Then he studied the photo. "Lovely," he sighed. "Let's pack it and see if it heals. It split so bad because it's on contractured skin."

"I thought you had skin grafts." She frowned.

"Full thickness skin was grafted from the groin area - where my hip and torso join - and transplated to my face. However, even skin grafts heal with tension when over burns." He pocketed his cell.

Her eyes teared. "You have scars from grafting too?"

He looked away. "They're just linear scars."

"But still more scars. Oh, Jay," she sighed with a heavy heart. "If I ever meet your ex, I'll punch her lights out. How could she be so heartless to leave you to face it all alone," she fumed.

"It was better than her staying out of pity."

"Still. I reserve the right to get in a cat fight with her." She stepped out to tell the doctor it was alright, his laugh following her out.

Pete stood there with Jason's medical bag and the priest. "I was wondering where you were. The doc said what happened, so I got his bag and told her that you and I can handle him," Pete said.

"I locked the church up so he can come out here in better light to be treated. Is he alright?" Father Bob wrung his hands. "Next weekend I'm preaching about acceptance and kindness. The poor boy looked so humiliated even from the front of the church."

She engulfed him in a hug. "Thank you. You do so much for him."

He patted her back. "He clings so strongly to God to help him. I only do what I can."

Disappearing back into the restroom, she took Jason's hand. "Pete is here with your bag, and Father Bob locked up the church. We can fix you up out there in daylight."

"No, just bring in my bag. You and I can do it." Distress wrinkled his brow.

Her heart skipped a beat. "You want me to help instead of Pete?"

"I mean, if you want to." He suddenly looked so vulnerable, as if ready for rejection.

"Of course I want to." Her heart melted, and she hurried out to get his bag. He wanted privacy - and her to be part of that. She wasn't getting the door shut in her face this time. "Here. He wants me to do it in the bathroom." She held out her hand for the bag.

Pete blinked. "Just you?" He cocked his head.

She bit her lip and grinned.

A smile lit up Pete's face. "By all means, take it. Go! Go before he changes his mind." He shoved the bag at her and spun her around by the shoulders. "You show him what love is about, Emma! Whoo!" Pete cheered.

Father Bob laughed with glee as she ran back to the bathroom.

She burst through the door, her heart beating fast with hope. Jason looked up in surprise. Her feet came to a screeching halt before him. She looked up at him, the love about to burst her heart. Without waiting for worry or fear or any emotion to get between them, she flung her arms around him and planted a hearty kiss on the bare side of his mouth. "Dear heaven, I love you." Then she let go and laid out paper towels on the counter to set his bag on a clean surface. She washed her hands again and glanced at him in the mirror.

He still watched her as she got out supplies. When he bent down for her to reach the wound, he adjusted his hold on the paper towels a bit. "What has you so happy?" He seemed curious.

Dabbing at the wound to clean it, she couldn't stop grinning. "I love you. Tell me if it hurts."

"I have no feeling on most of that side of my face."

Her smile faded, and she met his gaze. "Is that why you touched my hand? Because you couldn't tell if I was touching your face?" He wouldn't have even been able to see if she'd been touching him either.

His expression didn't change, as if he wasn't focused on the conversation. "Yes. But, loving me doesn't explain why you're so happy."

The smile couldn't be smothered for long and it returned, making her cheeks ache with its strength. She turned her face up to him like he was the warm summer sun. "Because you chose me."

Confusion settled on his face. "For bandaging a bloody wound? You are an easy woman to please." He smiled.

She cut strips of gauze for packing the gash and beamed a smile up at him. "For taking care of this side of your face."

A soft expression of wonder transformed his face. It was like he was seeing her for the first time...and saw some kind of miracle.

"I told you I loved you." She brushed a kiss over his lips and rubbed the tip of her nose against his playfully. Then she resumed taking care of him, even blood not enough to stop the joy in her heart.

"Yes, you did," he whispered, studying her in awe. "I love you too, sweetheart."


	37. Chapter 37

**Author's Note: The glorious fun of reading live...I rewrote this chapter a few times but ended up having no way around it without tweaking Chapter 35.**

 **This chapter is dedicated to all women. You'll see why in Jason's conversation with Emma.**

* * *

Rapping on his office door one morning, she glanced down at Prince. The mutt loved greeting Jason in the mornings upon their arrival...before joining Trudy in the kitchen for breakfast.

"Come in," Jason called.

She stepped in with his medical bag that had taken up the habit of not moving from the front door after her nursing visits each morning. Prince trotted over and grabbed a fresh sock that suspiciously kept appearing each morning in his study.

He stood from behind the desk, wearing the ski mask until a new plastic one was delivered. "Morning, sweetheart." The man strode across the room as he buttoned up his suit jacket.

She smiled and let him take the medical bag. The butterflies flitted in her stomach upon seeing him, just like every morning. "Morning." Tilting her head back, she accepted his now customary greeting kiss on the lips.

Then he leaned down and petted Prince, who groaned his excited greeting and then trotted off to the kitchen with his fresh sock.

"And you say I spoil that dog? Who is reinforcing his habit, Dr. Port?" she scolded and followed him over to the desk.

He set the medical bag on the desk. Then he sat a hip on the edge, as usual, and unbuttoned his suit at the waist. "I have no idea, Ms. Hoplin," he replied with a grin.

Ugh, he'd mastered that mischevious smile recently that created a dimple in his cheek. "Don't look at me like that. You learned full well the other day that I will be late for work if you do that." She pulled medical gloves out of his bag while he shrugged off his jacket and unbuttoned his white dress shirt for the allergy injection.

"Deepest apologies, my lady."

She snorted and drew up the syringe. "Right. You are not remorseful at all." A soft smile escaped.

He grinned. "I'd be an idiot if I was, but it's rude not to apologize. I think that was the best kiss we've had yet, sweetheart." He stood and offered the back of his arm.

"No comment because we are not trying to make a new record. I start work in twenty minutes." She glanced at his shoulders. This was always the best part - lollygagging to have extra time to admire his bare broad shoulders without him realizing. She wiped his arm with the alcohol wipe and pulled his shirt down his arms a tad more not because there wasn't enough space but because maybe his back would flex. He shrugged down his shirt a little more. There it was - sweet heaven from the beautiful bulges of raw male muscle throughout his arms and back. Oh yes. She sighed and pinched his skin to give the injection.

He turned to take the syringe when she finished.

"Hold on, let me check." She gave him the syringe but turned him around. She pulled on his shirt a little and touched his arm so he wouldn't think anything of it. His back flexed again. Oh god, he was lovely. The shoulder burn only added to his powerful appearance. Badass bad boy indeed. Trudy would know what time he usually worked out upstairs. Maybe some urgent question would arise and she'd have to pop in on him. She sighed wistfully.

He looked over his shoulder and burst out laughing. "You naughty girl!" He heaved a sigh of contentment. "You're insatiable. And I love it." The evil man threw back his shoulders and flexed his back.

It would be a sin to let that go to waste. She ripped off a glove and ran a hand over those glorious swells. "Jay, just the sight of you..." She sighed.

He pulled up his shirt and turned around, his face serious as he buttoned up. "Do you truly find pleasure in me like that? It just seems like you having to play nursemaid daily would slaughter the attraction."

She shook her head and searched his vivid blue eye. "No. It..." She nibbled her lip. How to explain it? "There's a safe homeyness to it. Because you wouldn't just let anyone take care of you, it's almost like another way of being intimate. I feel...protective and like you're vulnerable when we're doing this." She frowned. "Does that make sense?"

A smile relaxed his face. "Yes. I know what you're talking about. I don't feel like a child or some invalid being cared for. It feels...safe and a bit like what I imagine having a wife fussing would be like. Perhaps I'd like it less if I could feel the pain during the dressing changes," he cracked a smile, "but I like the domestic homeyness too - I mean that in a good way. It's almost a bit romantic."

She smiled and changed gloves. These moments with him felt intimate and safe to talk about anything. Her heart beat a little faster. She could ask him if he still thought about getting engaged at a year. It all felt so natural, so easy with him like they should already be engaged. "Jay?"

"Emma?" he asked at the same moment. He smiled and waved his hand for her to proceed.

She bit her lip. It might be pushy and trap him into moving faster than he was ready for. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth. Then she looked him in the eye, their gaze intense and intimate. And then she closed her mouth.

His brow furrowed. "Sweetheart, don't be worried about telling me something." He rubbed her upper arm. Patience and love overflowed in his voice.

The uneasiness faded away. Her heart melted. "I love that about you. You're so encouraging and patient." Then she flushed at being so frank.

"You're very much the same way, Em." He smiled. "I love our relationship. It's...it's more than I ever hoped to have." His voice grew thick.

Her heart beat faster. She should say that she didn't want to wait until a year to get engaged. Maybe he felt like he had to wait a year for propriety or something. If she asked him to be brutally honest, he would be. It was their promise they made two weeks ago to say what they were feeling and be patient as they discussed it to make sure there weren't misunderstood or hurt feelings. And it was working out wonderfully so far. She bit her lip. Maybe now wasn't a good time to bring it up, though. First, they needed to discuss what Father Bob had said this past Sunday about physical intimacy.

"If - " He stopped and frowned. "What, Emma? I know that bite. You're worried about something."

"Um..." Her throat constricted. She pulled off the gloves and set her hands over his in his lap. This would be a delicate line to tread without him thinking it had to do with the scars, especially now that it was coming up after having seen a tiny area of his forehead burn. She looked straight into his eye. "This has nothing to do with the burns. I need you to believe me."

His brow furrowed. "Alright..."

She took a deep breath. "At church this past Sunday, Father Bob inquired after you. I just said that until a new mask arrives, you prefered Mondays again. We sort of got to talking, and he brought up something that's been bothering me the past few days."

Concern marred his brow. "What, sweetheart?" He took her hands and pulled her closer.

This was hard to talk about...or more like hard to admit. "Well, he made a comment about physical intimacy, and I just said we weren't having sex." She swallowed hard and searched his eye. "I didn't come out and say what we've done, but he made a side comment about some people misunderstanding that going too far isn't just about having intercourse." She bit her lip.

He frowned and blinked for a moment. "And now you're thinking we've gone too far?"

She nodded and chewed her lip.

His thumb caught her lip and pulled down a bit to free it. "Don't eat your mouth, sweetheart. We'll figure this out." He leaned back against the desk. "I am completely open to cutting things back to whatever you feel comfortable with. This is why I'm saying that, I'm not just laying the burden at your feet: clearly my parents were not the epitomy of morality, and I sort of cut health class in high school." He rolled his eye in embarrassment. "I genuinely thought that if we're not performing oral sex on bare skin or any kind of penetration that it's alright. I know I've rubbed you with my fingers, but to my knowledge I haven't actually penetrated, correct?"

Her face burned. "No, but I think we've done more than we should." Tears blurred him.

He took her hands and his voice held so much concern. "I'm sorry, Emma. I never meant to take advantage - "

"No." She shook her head. "I'm not saying it's your fault." She sniffled and stared down at his shirt, brushing away the tears. She was the one who pushed most of the time, the one who owed him an apology. This was so humiliating. "I think it's my fault. You're the one who usually puts a stop to it." She looked up at him.

Dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief, he frowned. "Sweetheart, don't cry. We're both responsible. Why you think this is your fault?"

"I've been so scared of men and ashamed of my body since him, and I never knew there could be that kind of pleasure." Her face crumpled. "There's so much relief in feeling safe with you and that you desire me." She hiccupped. "You make me feel pretty, and I can feel that you love me when you touch me. I just...I want that so much. I've pretty much outright asked you for sex in the moment. But then a couple weeks ago when I thought you were really going to, I got scared. Not of you but of having sex."

Those strong, safe arms wrapped around her. "Oh god, I should've seen it this whole time," he whispered to himself. "You're scared to have sex, like maybe it will hurt or be scary like it was when he hurt you? Like part of you just wants to get our first time with intercourse over with? Oh, I should've asked. Sometimes it surprised me that you didn't shy away from physical intimacy."

When she buried her face against his shoulder, she muttered, "Don't blame yourself for me messing up."

He caught her chin with his forefinger and raised her gaze. "Emma, you did not mess up. There have been times when I've crossed lines too that later I think I shouldn't have, particularly in Florida. The love and desire and trust get flowing, and sometimes it's very hard to stop. We're both responsible. Given your history and the possibility that you might need surgery to have intercourse, it's understandable that you want to get it over with. Do not ever force yourself into something sexual that you don't want - that's is not fair to you and it teaches you to see me as a monster. Even after we're married, one of us is going to have a higher sex drive, and there's nothing wrong or bad about that. We just need to communicate when and what emotions are happening."

She gave a solemn, watery smile. He always knew how to take away the embarrassment and guilt so everything could just be safe and open to discuss.

"Tell me what you want. Clearly the rule of not touching under clothes is not a strong enough line, so we'll back up." He ran a hand over her hair.

This had to get off her chest before talking about rules. "Do I do things you're not comfortable with?" When he frowned, she bit her lip. "Like touching you. I get the feeling that you don't always like it, so I don't do it then. Or like a couple weeks ago you stopped me and mumbled something in a foreign language. At the time I thought you were just struggling to control yourself, but now I'm wondering if you didn't like it." She frowned, her forehead aching from such deep worry lines.

His fingers stroked over her brow to smooth it with such care. "I did like it, I just didn't trust myself to stop. I muttered a Gaelic prayer for strength." He held her eyes, and the corner of his mouth curled up a bit. "You're very beautiful, Emma, and I love you so much. Sometimes while it's happening, my conscience whispers that maybe we shouldn't be doing that. And sometimes I choose not to listen, but that's my fault, not yours." His eye delivered a stern look.

Guilt sat heavy on her shoulders. She'd tempted him when he wouldn't have crossed the line otherwise. A partner shouldn't do that. He'd said once that a woman had never physically pleasured him before. She shouldn't have taken that from him. He'd said that he and his ex had never done more than kissing. What if Gaston was right that she was good for whoring now? Maybe he'd twisted her mind. Maybe there was something sexually wrong with her now.

"Emma, tell me what you're thinking. You look so upset. Let me in." He squeezed her hands tight. When she spilled her thoughts and tears, he ran a hand over his head like he was frustrated or overwhelmed, or both. "Sweetheart, no. I know you're not comfortable talking to a therapist about what happened, but you need to, Emma. He planted ideas in your head that aren't true."

Profound shame washed up. He was begging her to see a therapist...because he thought there was something wrong with her. She pulled her hands out of his to hold herself, feeling so naked and damaged.

"Tell me," he demanded with patience. "That thought that just went through your head - you just shut down, and I can't reach you. You've been slamming up walls the last few seconds, and I can't get through them. Emma, I think we have multiple conversations going here, and they're getting jumbled up." He sat in the chair and pulled her into his lap to sit sideways. "Come, Emma, I think we have some kind of disconnect going." He wrapped an arm around her hip, giving a soft shake. "Tell me what you just thought."

Reason said not to put words in his mouth, that it wasn't fair to him. Shoving down the shame and humiliation, she said in a quiet voice, "Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

"What? No." A deep frown marred his face. "I think he knew how to plant twisted ideas in your head, and now you're having trouble getting them out. That's all. I'm sorry, I said that poorly the first time, didn't I? You can call me an idiot for that." A soft twinkle sparkled in his eye, as if trying to lighten the mood for her.

That won a watery laugh. She brushed at her eyes with the handkerchief he handed over.

"As far as being physical, what if we cut it back to no touching whatsoever below the waist? I agree that we're headed for trouble, especially being we need to get to and through an engagement yet."

It definitely wasn't a good time to talk about moving up an engagement. She nodded. "What about breasts? We have to know what all the lines are."

He nodded. "Good point. What do you think?"

She blinked that he threw this at her. "You have a better conscience about it. You say first."

He held up a finger with a disapproving frown. "Don't talk like that. We have different views," he corrected. "It's your body, Emma. You tell me what I can do."

She frowned. "So, you're just washing your hands of making this decision because you don't have breasts?" This didn't seem like him.

"I have no business in being part of this decision. This part is strictly your body - you have every right whenever you want to revoke whatever privileges. Someone being allowed to touch you is a priviledge, not a right. I don't care if we're married forty years and then you decide you don't like me touching you sexually or nonsexually, you tell me. Just because you've done something sixteen thousand times doesn't mean you have to do it or let someone do it even one more time. Every single time I touch you it is a privilege, and I should be watching for verbal and nonverbal permission. I might be surprised if you suddenly reject me, but I have no right to get angry. Having the title of boyfriend or husband does not mean you owe me anything."

She cracked a smile. "You should be a feminine rights speaker."

"I will if it'll make you believe what I'm telling you." He would too. "You tell me what I am allowed to do, Emma."

She fell in love with him a little more. If only every man had his honor... "Well, I think it's fine if it continues to be through clothes. But you can't get my shirt wet so it's like kissing without any barrier."

His face grew a bit red with embarrassment. "I admit I got carried away that time. Alright, no wet kissing like that. What about touching through a nightgown? Your bras seem to usually have cups that provide a bit of a padded barrier."

She flushed. "This has to make top spot for our weirdest conversations."

"No, it's smart. This is a conversation I wish I would've thought to bring up myself a long time ago. There wasn't this kind of physical attraction with my ex, so I didn't really think about setting guidelines before you and I did. And those were obviously naive guidelines. So, what do you say?" He smiled.

"I'd say no touching without a bra."

"And why do you say that?" He cocked an eyebrow.

She flushed. This felt silly, like a school lesson. "Because it's my body."

"And?" When she bit her lip, he slapped his thigh. "Come on. It's you're body and you have the right to decide privileges. Own it, Emma!" He smiled. This man sure knew how to hang up the tie and be a cheerleader when needed

"It's my body and I have the right to decide privileges," she mumbled. Her face burned with a shy smile.

He threw his hands up. "Really? I'd believe I should chase my nonexistent tail before I'd believe that. Make me believe it!"

She said it with a bit more excitement and then laughed.

"Hell, yeah!" He kissed her cheek.

With a hearty laugh, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. When their laughter died, she pulled back to look him in the eye. "Jay? I think I like this. We're kinda falling into a pattern of being physical instead of talking. These past couple weeks we haven't really done much more than kissing, and now we talk more like this."

A tender smile from his heart touched his face. "I like it too. I admit that I miss the physical aspect, but I agree that it was becoming just physical. I think it lost a little of the emotional feel it had in the beginning. It feels like we're growing more now." He brushed a kiss over her lips. "I'm glad you came up with this idea that we talk and don't leave until we're certain there aren't misunderstandings," he said, his voice so intimate and honest. "Look at all the hurt feelings we would've had in these past fifteen minutes.

"As far as the therapist, I think it would be good for you and for our relationship. I obviously need to learn more about what I should be doing to help you, and we need someone who knows how to get all of his evil out of your head. You don't have to have me, but I would like to be at some or all of the sessions. I want to be there to help you feel more comfortable and to give you support." He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "I know all that he did, Emma, so there's no need for secrets anymore."

Her smile died. It would be so humiliating for him to hear if the therapist said she was messed up. She opened her mouth to protest.

He stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "Sit with me for the support group next week, and let me sit with you for one of your appointments. Let's take this step, Emma. Believe me, I'm probably dreading you sitting in as much as you are me, but I trust you. For better or for worse. We love each other for the better, and we'll love each other for the worse too." Hope and trust brimmed in his eye. "Jump, Emma. I promise it's safe. Trust me." He held open his hands.

The galloping of her heart drummed in her ears. But she took his hands. Some of the fear melted when he raised her hands to his lips for a gentle kiss. Love glowed in his tender gaze. She flushed. "What were you going to ask?"

A chuckle bubbled up. "Well, it seems very trivial compared to what you had to talk about. Would you like to accompany me to town tomorrow night for the Fourth of July fireworks?"

She beamed. "A date?"

His face fell. "I'm sorely lacking in courting you if you to light up that much over a date night." He sat back in the chair and rubbed his chin through the mask.

"No." She frowned. "I know you're limited in what we can go out and do with this ski mask."

"This mask has only been for two weeks. The other mask is supposed to arrive this afternoon." He glanced at his watch and patted her hip. "We will discuss setting up regular date nights. You'd better get to work."

"Do you have a few minutes? I can go clock in and have my files download - they usually take five minutes. Then I'll change your bandage."

"I do. And, Em?" A look so intense and intimate cut right through all the barriers and straight into her soul. "You are the one who determines your worth - not me or him or anyone else in this world. That's power that only you hold. Never let anyone else make you think otherwise."

Her lip quivered, and she nodded. It was hard to believe those words now, but one day she would.

When she returned with freshly washed hands, he wore a ski mask that had a a hole cut in the forehead for the bandage changes. She pulled on gloves as he brought over a wastebasket and sat on the front of the desk. Easing off the bandage, she pulled out the gauze packed in the wound. Heaving a sigh, she dropped the items in the trash. The gore no longer caused faintness.

His eye followed, calm and serene. "Thank you, Emma." Tender love and compassion filled his voice, and love flowed from his gaze.

With a soft smile, she brushed a kiss over his lips. "Of course, honey." Then she straightened with a frown and dabbed at the bleeding area. "Shouldn't this be healed by now? It doesn't look much better than two weeks ago."

"It might take a couple more weeks. The doctors said my skin heals a little slower than most people. Plus, it will take longer because of the burn. If there's no infection, I'd rather we just keep working on it at home." He sighed. "A surgeon would probably want to do a skin graft, but it'll probably not take well, like all the other times. I can't be in the hospital again, Emma. I'm so weary of it."

The distress pulled at her heartstrings. "Alright. As long as it doesn't get infected, we'll give it a few more days." She packed it again and nibbled on a question. He probably wouldn't mind if she asked. "You don't have to answer, but is the skin uneven in thickness because of the graphs failing?"

"It is. I was in the hospital longer than most because I wasn't healing like I should've. The hypertrophic scarring is why you're able to pack it too," he added. "If _you_ got a cut on your forehead, there's not enough thickness to be able to pack." That beautiful blue eye held her gaze. "Thank you for doing this. I know it's not pleasant - "

Opening a fresh bandage, she gave him a look. "If you thank me once more, I'll wear earplugs when I do this tomorrow morning." When he smiled, she moved to tape on the bandage. His skin was red around the wound - it hadn't looked like that a minute ago. She stilled and frowned. "Are you allergic to this adhesive? Your skin is getting red." She leaned a little closer. "Oh, honey, it's getting raw. It didn't look like that yesterday."

He pulled back and slipped to his feet. "It's just irritation from the mask rubbing."

She grabbed his arm when he stepped around her. "Tell me what we need to do for it. Do you have to put a cream on?"

"Stevens can finish." He didn't look and his voice was terse.

"Or you teach me how to finish."

He shook his head, still only offering his profile. "I'm not going to make you touch it or see more of it."

"Jay, I know that third-degree burn survivors have to put moisturizer on two or three times a day because the oil glands aren't there anymore. The ski mask and adhesive must be drying it out faster. Put the cream on a cottonball or something if you don't want me to touch you directly. Teach me how we do it," she said with all the compassion and tenderness in her heart.

His arm pulled out of her hand, and he walked out.

* * *

At lunch when she sat down to eat with Trudy and Pete, Trudy handed her a note.

 _Emma,_

 _An urgent matter came up with the patent, so I had to go out to the East Coast. You were on the phone, and I had to leave to make a deadline. I'll call you tomorrow morning to see what time you'd like me to pick you up._

 _I don't wish to leave you with the impression that I'm angry about earlier. It's still hard having you see and touch for bandage changes. I understand that you mean well, but I don't know that I can handle more than what we're doing. You already do more than I could ask for, sweetheart._

 _I love you,_

 _Jay_

It was sweet of him to make sure she didn't think he was angry with her, but an ache grew deep inside. She'd pushed when she hadn't meant to. Protectiveness and love swelled up. Pulling out her cell, she opened a text.

 _Thank you for your note and making sure I didn't misunderstand. Just slip in next time so I can give you a kiss before you go. Tell me when I push cuz I don't mean to. I love you._

A reply came five minutes later. _Just got out of meeting and walking to another. I know you don't mean to. Love you. Miss you._

She smiled. He knew that everything was done out of love, but sometimes a reminder meant just as much. _Miss you too. And, Jay? Remember that I'm blind to what you see in the mirror. I want to take care of you in whatever ways you'll let me because I love you so much - in sickness and in health, my love._ She included a heart emoticon.

Her phone chirped. _Emma...you melted my heart. I wish I could hold you. I love you so much that it would take more a lifetime to show you, sweetheart. Meet me with a hug tomorrow._ He added an emoticon heart too.

She sighed with longing, her heart skipping a beat from his messages. The sweet man knew how to sweep her heart away, and he'd done it all day over and over. She looked up from the phone to Trudy and Pete. "I want to marry him."


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's Note: I struggled with this chapter for some reason. It just kept not going where I wanted, and I had to rewrite it literally eight times. I have to write to music to go back in and fill in the emotion on the page, but nothing inspired what I was trying to get...until a couple songs that came on the radio last night. It's pretty close now - the best I think I'm gonna get for now. Moving on to the next chapter!**

 **Thanks for the reviews, Justastranger, YazminXD, and Waya17! It helps getting feedback.**

* * *

She sat on the sofa in her living room the next morning. It was Saturday, the Fourth of July. Date night. It should be a fun, exciting day but...worry nipped. Half past nine and he still hadn't called. And he hadn't answered a text from a half hour ago. This was late in the morning for Mr. Early Riser. She picked up her cell and dialed his number. Maybe he'd been delayed on the East Coast.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. She bit her lip. He usually answered by the second ring. Ring. It went to voicemail. "Jay, call me. I'm worried because you're not answering. Call me crazy, but I have a bad feeling. I'm going to call Pete."

She hung up and scrolled through the Contacts list. Maybe he'd been delayed. Or had a car accident. Or fallen ill. Her heart pounded. She shook her head and took a deep breath. Just when she pulled up Pete's number, the phone rang. Jason's number popped on the screen.

The phone almost fell as she tried to hit the button fast. "Are you alright?"

"Hello, Emma." His voice didn't have the usual crispness but a slow, exhausted note to it. "I didn't reach the phone in time when you called. I'm sorry, but I have to cancel tonight."

"Are you okay? You don't sound like yourself."

He didn't say anything for a moment. Trudy's muffled voice sounded stern in the background. "I...I had heat stroke this morning."

"What?!" She shot up. "Are you alright? What happened? Where are you?" Not heat exhaustion but heat stroke. Darting down the hall with the phone, she snatched her suitcase and started throwing things inside. Prince trotted in and stuck his face in the suitcase to see what all the excitement was about.

"I'm fine. It happened around six o'clock in the arboretum. I didn't realize how humid it'd get in there."

The heat index was supposed to surprass one hundred five today. In the arboretum, it'd probably reached at least ninety degrees by six o'clock. "Which hospital are you at?"

"Well..." He hesitated. "I signed myself out when my temperature came down enough. The attending wouldn't sign off until I agreed to home nurse observation for the full fourty eight hours. I can't take being in the hospital again for three days. I'm sorry I have to cancel, Emma." He sounded a bit breathless.

"I don't care about the date. I'm coming to help."

"No, the - "

"Yes. Don't argue with me, Jason," she ordered.

"Are you certain?" His tone fell to an extremely somber pitch. "I don't want you to waste your holiday stuck here playing nursemaid."

She bit her tongue. "Are you trying to be dense, or is the heat stroke still affecting your brain to say that? And it's not playing nursemaid, it's taking care of my ill boyfriend."

"It's not fair to ask you. My health isn't the best. Over the years, I'll be ill often. You don't need to be a caregiver more than you already are. There are others here to do it." His voice rang flat.

Something in her chest constricted. "Jay, it's not treating you like an invalid or anything like that. It's helping out the man I love. You don't know for certain if you'll get sick often. Perhaps it's a string of bad luck, and you will hardly need anything again for years. We'll figure out if the time comes if we need Trudy and Pete or a home nurse to help, alright?"

"Emma, you don't need to be doing it all. You're not obligated just because we're dating." His voice carried so much worry.

"I know that. I did not complain when you carried me around when I hurt my ankle."

"That was different. It was temporary."

"And so is this. You aren't going to be ill from heat stroke forever." Goodness, the dear man needed some cheering up too. "I threw my suitcase together while we've been talking." She grabbed Prince and hooked up his leash. "I'm ready, Jay. Do you _want_ me to come? I'm not asking if you think I should or if you need me to, I'm asking if you _want_ me." She bit her lip. Not long ago he would've shoved her away.

"I'd like you to come." His voice was quiet and soft, portraying both his exhaustion and his shyness about asking.

She grabbed the suitcase and her purse. "We're walking out the door now, honey."

Waiting for Pete to arrive would waste a half hour, so she called a cab and paid online to save time. In the cab, she pulled out her phone. "Trudy, how is he?" Her heart pounded and nerves twisted her stomach. He could be on his deathbed and not mention it for fear of seeming like a burden.

"The nurse got him down to one hundred two point four. He looks miserable, don'tcha know." Jason's voice mumbled in the background. "I'm talkin' to Ms. Hoplin. She's worried and you need her here. Gag me like a rooster or fire me, but she needs to know!" Trudy's voice cut through the phone a bit shrill and a bit flustered.

"Trudy, it's alright. He's not going to fire you. Let me talk to him if he's giving you a hard time."

"I stepped into the hall where he can't peck at me. He's being so stubborn." The woman released a deep breath, the stress palpable through the phone. "He was one hundred five point one when he got to the ER. He dropped to one hundred two." She mumbled a prayer, making it easy to image the woman making the sign of the cross. "I found him wandering all confused in the arboretum like a deaf bat this mornin'. His clothes were soaked from sweatin' like a pig. He had on that blasted ski mask in the arboretum, don'tcha know. The sense of a dog in hay to wear that in this heat."

She frowned trying to follow Trudy's disjointed conversation.

"He got home at eleven last night and couldn't stop talkin' about taking you to the fireworks. Like a babe waiting for ice cream, he was. He was holding a bouquet of roses and wearing his suit when I found him today." Then she burst into tears.

Her stomach dropped. He'd gotten heat stroke making a bouquet of roses for her. She drew a deep breath and spoke slow and calm. Not letting emotions run wild from worry was the best thing to do for everyone. "Trudy, calm down. Falling apart isn't going to do anyone any good. I'm in a cab and will be there in another twenty minutes. You tell him I said he needs to do what the nurse says."

When the cab pulled up to his home, she darted out with her purse and suitcase. Prince jumped out and raced to the front door. He barked at the door and pranced, his tail flailing, as she ran up the steps behind him.

Trudy whipped open the door. "Thank a monkey's uncle. He won't let the nurse in since he heard you're coming. He's in the back room." Trudy wept into a handkerchief, the perfect image of a frazzled mother. "You're the only one who can talk sense into him. He's never been this pig headed."

Or Trudy and Pete had never been around to see it because he'd never allowed them to come to the hospital. The man was trying to shut everyone out for some reason and apparently succeeding well. She abandoned everything at the front door and hurried across the foyer with Trudy. "Where is the nurse?"

Trudy pointed to an older woman who stood outside the closed door of the cabin-decorated room. "This is Mona. He won't let her in, don'tcha know. He said he doesn't need anyone but you." Trudy wrung her hands in distress.

Mona shook her hand. Worry lines crinkled the corners of the woman's eyes. "Ice packs through his shirt aren't working well enough. He needs to be wiped down with cool water to evaporate the heat, but he won't let me. He was down to one hundred two when he signed himself out - just at the temp when the doctors stop cooling therapy to avoid dropping his temperature too much. He went up to one hundred three point four being transported."

Trudy dabbed at her eyes. "All he lets me do is put ice packs on him. He put a bandage on his burn to keep it covered when you said you were coming. I wet it to help cool him. He wasn't going to tell you what happened. He said you aren't a nursemaid. When I finally threatened to tell you myself, he spilled the beans. Probably got myself fired, but he needs you here."

He needed someone to manhandle him for his own good. If he wanted to be stubborn, his match had arrived. She opened the door.

He reclined on the sofa in a white undershirt damp with perspiration and in cotton pajama bottoms. An I.V. was in his arm. Two ice packs sat on his chest. His skin had a pink flush from being overheated. Relief and exhaustion filled his face.

Pete sat on the edge of a chair nearby, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. Distress was written all over his face. Tension vibrated in the room.

"Trudy, please fetch the items the nurse said," she said while crossing the room. Then she knelt beside the sofa and laid a hand on his forehead. "Hi, honey." He was still burning up and breathed a bit fast. "Jason, you need to be in the hospital. I'll go with you." She laid her fingers against his damp neck. His pulse drummed from the strain on his heart.

He shook his head. "It's not heat stroke 'til one 'o four." His slow words were a bit breathless. "It'll reverse." His hot hand pulled hers down and clasped it tight.

Nerves clenched her stomach, threatening to bring up breakfast. "Why won't you let the nurse in?" She searched his eyes. If she pushed the nurse on him, he'd accept. But he deserved the right to voice what bothered him first.

Pete cut in. "The nurse was making him more agitated, which only drove up his fever. He's been asking and asking for you. Since hearing that you were coming, he won't let the nurse do more than take his temperature and Trudy set on ice packs."

Jason closed his eye, as if struggling to control his temper. "Stevens, go."

She set a hand on his arm to calm him. "He's only worried, Jason." Then she looked at Pete and nodded.

Pete clenched his teeth but walked out.

An ear thermometer and blood pressure cuff sat on the coffee table. He didn't fuss when she checked his temp. One hundred two point three. At least he wasn't going up. She pulled off his shirt to get air to his skin to cool him, and he didn't protest one bit. "They're only worried, honey. Don't bite their heads off." Then she untangle his shirt from the I.V. line.

He didn't respond.

Sitting on the edge of the sofa near his hip, she rolled up his pantlegs. "Why won't you let the nurse in?" When he still didn't say anything, she looked at him.

"Everyone's hovering like I'm an invalid." His face fell and his blue eye stared at his lap with shame. "I was always the one to take care of and provide for everyone. I don't need everything done for me."

She sat beside him again and slipped the blood pressure cuff over his arm without the I.V. "No one is trying to treat you like an invalid. You're ill, not incapable." Then she picked up the electronic blood pressure monitor and looked for the Start button.

He pushed a green button and it started.

It was difficult to bite back a smile. "You're awfully complacent for having them in tears out there."

He held her eye in all seriousness. "You don't look at me with pity like they do. Half the time they both look at me like I'm on my deathbed after I've been in the hospital."

Her smile faded. "Jason, Trudy seems to view you a little bit like a son and doesn't handle stress too well. All she ever wants to do is please you. Pete cares for you but isn't comfortable showing emotions. Sometimes his feelings seem to come out wrong. Neither of them mean anything by it." The monitor beeped an alert for a slightly elevated blood pressure.

"That's normal during this condition," he commented. Then he looked at her. "I hate anyone but you touching my shoulder," he said in soft tones, almost as if embarrassed to admit it.

The world turned upside down for a brief moment. This strong, private man chose her as the one with whom to be vulnerable and be allowed this privilege of touching his burn. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips over his. She cupped his cheek, the hot sweat and heat of him burning her hand as she looked in his eye. "Then I'll be the one to touch your shoulder. It can just be you and me in here, with the nurse popping in now and then to check you."

He covered her hand with his, so much worry still in his gaze. "I don't mean to make you play nurse - " The tension in his shoulders made her own back ache.

She pressed a finger to his lips. "I don't mind being a nurse to my soldier. You're no more than a veteran ill from complications related to his battle wounds, my Jay." It would make it less hard on his self-confidence if he could see it that way too. He didn't appear to be convinced. "I'll be right back." She stepped out and shut the door.

Trudy walked out of the kitchen and handed over a bowl, rag, and table fan.

She turned to all of them, the concern clearly weighing heavily on everyone's shoulders. "He's self-conscious right now." She turned to the nurse. "Would you just wait out here, and I'll come out every few minutes to update you? I'll see if I can convince him to let you come in after a bit."

The nurse nodded, her kind face smoothing somewhat as some of the distress fled. Pete and Trudy seemed anxious, obviously wanting to help. They'd feel better having tasks to do.

"Trudy and Pete, would you make something light for him to eat to keep his strength up? Nothing hot, but nothing very cold either." The relief on their faces lightened some of her own stress.

She entered the room and shut the door. "We're going to try a sponge bath, Jay." Then she plugged in the fan and set it on the coffee table to blow at him. Laying one of the ice packs on the back of his neck, she glanced at his face. The poor man looked like he felt miserable, but his gaze remained focused on her. Even the illness didn't cloud the intelligence in his eye - he followed her every move, as if analyzing something.

She soaked his hair and wiped his face and torso with the wet rag. Then she wiped down his legs before returning to his face. His temp dropped a half degree within a few minutes, thank heavens, so she turned the fan to not blow directly on him.

"You're not talking. You don't have to be in here. The nurse can do it, Emma."

He thought her resentful or burdened. She didn't break pace in calmly wiping his burning body. Keeping her tone light would ease some of his stress. He was visibly exhausting with each passing minute. "I'm concentrating on not wanting to kiss you. You have very nice muscles, you know."

The man cracked a weak smile. "Liar. You're biting your lip and trying to not show your worry."

"Am I?" She released her lip. "You should like it that I fret over you." Then she helped him sit forward a bit and sat behind him to wipe down his back.

"I do. Exhaustion is normal, Emma, not a sign of things getting worse." Of course he could read what was bothering her.

"Do you need blood tests to make sure your organs are holding up? Would they be doing it in the hospital?"

He glanced over his slumping shoulder. "The hospital likely would. Would it make you feel better?"

With a slow nod, she bit her lip. "I don't wish for you to get poked, but it would make me feel better if you let us monitor you like you should be watched."

Without hesitation, he nodded. "There's a room upstairs with medical equipment. The test can be run up there." He agreed just like that, because it would make her feel better. Her heart melted.

She kept wiping his back while the nurse drew blood and ran the test. The results came back normal.

Her hand slowed in stroking the rag down chest. She loved him so much, and he needed to know none of this was out of obligation. "Jay? I hope you know I'd be doing this myself - even if you were in the hospital surrounded by fifty nurses and doctors." Tenderness swelled in her heart.

He looked at her with a tired smile. "I know," he whispered in a thick voice.

* * *

Jason stirred on the sofa. She glanced up from the laptop where she sat in a chair. Five o'clock. He'd slept for almost six hours. Setting down the computer on the coffee table, she scooted to the edge of the sofa when he rubbed his eye to wake up. "Hi, Jay."

He ran a hand through his hair and said in a sleepy voice, "I dreamed the burns happened all over again, but you were there this time. It wasn't so terrifying." His hand slipped into hers.

Tears stung. He'd been all alone and scared through all of it - the strength it must have taken to get through that was unfathomable. Deep down he must wish that she'd have been there. "Of course I would've stayed with you. They would've needed to drag me away. Even here with this heat stroke, I wouldn't dream of leaving you." Her fingers glided down his smooth cheek.

"Emma?" He swallowed hard. "In my dream, you saw me when everything was raw and bloody and you still would touch me." Before she could respond, he tugged her down to curl up on top of his chest. His arms wrapped around and held tight. "I love you. I didn't expect you to end up playing nurse as much as you did today, but..." His voice cracked and his arms tightened. "You charged right in and just started doing what needed to get done. I didn't feel humiliated or broken, Emma."

The tears in his voice ripped out her heart. Warm tears rolled from the corners of her own eyes and fell on his chest. Leaning up on him, she searched his face and brushed away a tear that slipped down his cheek. "Hey, now," she cooed. "I love you, Jay. Stop waiting for limits on it because there are none."

He shook his head. "Sometimes I can't believe that you're real, Emma. I keep waiting to wake up."

"I'm not going anywhere." She carressed his cheek. "You seem anxious, Jay. What's wrong?"

He released a shakey breath and swallowed hard, the self-consciousness staining his face. "I don't mean to disgust you..."

A frown pulled down her lips.

"Um, the wiping down with water, the wet bandage, and the high body temperature probably dried out the burns. They easily crack then. I had to be in the burn unit overnight a couple winters ago. The cracks caused an infection and what had taken for the skin transplant on my neck to die off. The burns can't heal on their own like normal skin would." So much weariness weighed down his voice.

She hugged him tighter. Such obstacles he went through for the simplest things, bless his heart. "Your shoulder is very dry, so I put on some of your cream that Trudy brought down for me. I imagine you need the bathroom after all those I.V. fluids. I'll grab Pete to help keep you steady. Check your face and scalp while you're in there. Then we can figure out from there what to do. Trudy said you'd want an undershirt on instead of walking through the house shirtless, so she left a fresh one for you."

When Pete helped him back in and the nurse reconnected the I.V., she sat down on the edge of the sofa. Her heart beat fast with anxiety waiting for them to leave the room. "How does it look?"

He didn't quite meet her eye. "The nurse is calling the physician to get antibiotic ointment because by tomorrow it'll probably be worse."

Oh no. She bowed her head a bit to catch his eye. "That doesn't answer my question. And what we do to keep you out of the hospital? This isn't the time to be shy, Jason."

That vibrant blue eye studied her for a moment. Then he said, "Well, how strong of a stomach do you have?"

Her gaze didn't waiver. He wanted her to cry foul on her own because deep down he didn't seem to want to actually push her away. "If you haven't noticed, Jason, my stomach has been getting stronger the last few months." She cocked an eyebrow.

His eye turned a little cold, a little calculating. Apparently he expected her to bolt in a moment. "It's peeling and starting to crack in a couple places. There's a small chance that putting on the moisturizer every couple hours - the one you used on my shoulder - will keep it from getting worse. Worst case is an infection takes hold and needs excising. Transplants will likely fail again, so it'll be much more time in the hospital trying to get open wounds exposing skull to heal."

Not a single muscle twitched. Then she swallowed down lunch again. He was trying to shock so she would back off. Her heart ached deep inside with the need to help him, to make him not feel so alone. But coddling would only make him throw up the walls. "Teach me how to take care of your skin."

He blinked. That didn't seem to be the reaction he'd expected.

"Let me start learning about your daily care, not because I don't think you can do it yourself but because I want to help you. These are the things that make our relationship safe and intimate. Let me in where no one else is allowed."

That dark eyebrow knit so tight into a frown that it made her own forehead hurt. "You're serious." His tone held surprise and guarded disbelief.

She smoothed her hands over her jeans and held her head high. "I'm not going to be a wife who coos and pats your hand, only helping out if you're ill. If I become diabetic, wouldn't you want to help test my blood sugar sometimes?"

"Of course, but - " He frowned.

"This is no different. You live with this every day, so I can give you respite now and then by doing the daily care for you."

The man simply looked at her without a word for several seconds. The wheels clearly turned in his head. He seemed to come to some kind of decision. "Alright."

A few minutes later, she held a cottonball and the tube of moisturizer. Her heart beat fast. This was a one-shot chance. He'd change his mind at the last minute. The man had so readily agreed, but then maybe their conversation about it yesterday too had helped nudge him. If this didn't go well...

"The cream is so thick that it doesn't spread well, as you probably noticed with my shoulder." He released a shakey breath. "Promise you'll stop if you don't want to keep going."

Her heart twisted. "I will. But I am not going to want to stop, Jay." She squirted some moisturizer on the cottonball and closed her eyes. The peeling of tape cut through the silence. He must've removed the bandages. Her heart shot to her throat. Every single nerve came alive with heightened awareness of her own heartbeat, own skin, own movement. The flip of her stomach made her draw a steadying breath. "I don't want you to resent me."

"I'm never going to resent you." He took her hand and guided to what seemed to be the height of his forehead. Then he lowered her hand so only the cottonball touched his flesh. He glided her hand straight back across the middle of his head. The cottonball trailed over uneven, pitted surface. He guided her hand down the back of his head. It was the outline of how far the burn had decimated his scalp - almost the entire half of his head.

A tear glided down her cheek. His burn extended farther into his hairline than imagined. Then her hand was set back down into her lap and his touch disappeared.

"That is not what you should ever touch or see. I do not lie that it is mangled and warped, Emma. This is not a face. Curiosity will tempt you to look at times, and so we will satisfy that now to protect you from ending up fearing what it is you married."

She frowned. 'It'? What curiosity? She was going to help put the moisturizer on.

The cottonball pulled out of her hand. The heat of his fingers wrapped around hers and guided her bare hand up again. Her breath hitched in surprise when her two fingertips brushed against hard, warm, bumpy skin. It must be his neck, based on the height of her reach. Her breaths came faster. Her heart raced. And then stilled in awe that he shared this side of himself already. Perhaps he would let her apply the cream in soft, gentle strokes with her fingers. Tears burned behind her eyelids as he trailed her two fingers over a very, very small area.

On the blank canvas in her mind, her fingers painted the valleys and mountains carved in his skin. An image began to form, filling in such wonder and strength where there had been nothingness for this half of his face before. Shapes and light and color appeared in gorgeous swirls, creating this side that had been missing. He was so beautiful - so full of strength and courage and love and honor. The ache followed close behind...the ache to feel the rest of his face, to touch his body and join his soul. Everything seemed so clear. He was the other half she'd been searching for. The lonely restlessness had faded away since meeting him. Life seemed so much sweeter, so much brighter, so much safer these past months. Love surged up like a well with a rush of water, rising and rising, until it burst up into the sky and showered down with such beauty. She thrived under his touch and love, just like his roses and his charity and the people in his life. He made the world better and kinder. The honor to be such a man's wife. Marrying him would be one of the most wonderful moments in life, and she didn't want to wait anymore. None of the scars mattered. Her other hand cupped the unburned side of his face. Her throat constricted from so much emotion, so much love. "Jason, will you mar - "

"Please go," he whispered and grasped her wrists to lower her hands.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart stumbled as the painting of him shattered. "W, what?" she gasped in a soft whisper. He couldn't have said what she thought. He'd been letting her in, sharing this intimate moment that brought them so close together.

"You know enough now to see the beast you love. Let me finish applying the cream in peace."

"But..." Everything had flipped so fast it was hard to follow. "I thought you're going to let me help...I don't understand."

"I just showed you what I said I never would. Please, Emma. I need some space for a few minutes." His voice held so much confusion and pain.

She opened her eyes to stare at her lap. Tears blurred everything, but she brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "I love you. Don't push me away."

He cradled her face in his gentle hands and leaned forward. She closed her eyes, soaking up his touch as he brushed a kiss over her forehead. "I love you. Five minutes is all I ask." His voice grew thick.

It wasn't right to make him beg. So she slipped out the door but left it cracked open just a hair. He wept with barely a sound. She leaned her back against the wall and sank to the floor, with tears inching down her cheeks. Deep aching surrounded her heart. He needed this, but it didn't make it any easier to witness his suffering. She stared at the grandfather clock in the foyer. One minute...two...three... Swallowing hard, she stood up. He'd quieted. Four...five...six... He deserved the space until he was ready. Perhaps he'd been pushed and now would pull back. He might shut her out. It would cause so much damage to his self-confidence if they pulled apart now. She ran her hands through her hair. Somehow she had to make him see the beauty where he saw a beast. Seven...eight...

"Emma?" he called, his voice not carrying far as if he knew she'd have stayed nearby.

She slipped inside, her heart pounding out of her chest. He wore the bandage again. And he held out his arms. Her heart stilled. Profound relief swept up, so strong her knees nearly buckled. A rush of protectiveness and love and joy and a dozen other emotions made the room spin for just a moment. Tears welled. She ran to him. Sitting in his lap, she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight to never let him go. "I love you." She sniffled.

His grip tightened too. "I love you, Emma."

"Don't let go," she whispered.

His face buried against her neck. "Never."

* * *

The nurse refused to remove the I.V. a few hours later but said he could get up for a bit if he felt up to it.

She walked under his arm just to be sure he didn't get dizzy as he pushed the I.V. pole. "Why are you insisting we go to my office?"

"Because." He smiled as they shuffled along. In the room, he kept going toward the bay window to the right of the desk. Then he let go and pulled aside one of the heavy drapes.

She grabbed the other one and pulled. It hardly budged. He'd made it look deceptively easy. She pulled hard, leaning with most of her body weight to open it. Then she turned to him.

He had crammed himself sideways in the window seat, and his shoulders shook with laughter.

"Are you laughing at me?" She set her hands on her hips but couldn't hold back the smile.

"My dear, I didn't think you'd be in danger opening the drape or I would've done it myself." He caught her elbow and pulled her into his lap.

"Wretch," she huffed but leaned back to peck a kiss on his chin. Then she laid some of the I.V. line slack across her belly so it wouldn't tug on his arm.

His arms locked around her. "My apologies." He chuckled. "You're so adorable. Oh, before I forget to tell you, I had Ms. Van Hoodie stick some money in your purse for the cab."

She frowned. "Jason - "

"I insist. It couldn't have been cheap, and I asked you to come. Stevens could've fetched you."

"I wanted to get here fast." She leaned back a bit to look up at him.

He bowed his head to meet her gaze. "Thank you, Emma. It would've been very difficult without you." His voice fell low and intimate, the vibrations in his chest so comforting against her back. Then he brushed a kiss over her lips. "Now, my love, watch." He pointed to the starry sky.

This was so cozy and romantic and peaceful reclining against his chest. He seemed so happy after his cry earlier. Not a word had been spoken about the burns, but a sense of peace seemed to have settled in him. She wrapped her arms over his. "What are we - "

A massive gold firework exploded in the distance, almost eye level with the window.

Her mouth fell open. "We can see them from here?" A big smile blossomed and made her cheeks ache.

"Yes. I didn't think we could, but Ms. Van Hoodie said she watches them from this side of the house. I'm glad you still came. I didn't want us to miss our first Fourth of July, sweetheart." He rested his cheek against her hair.

A red burst of light exploded in the air and shimmered down through the stars.

"These are the best fireworks I've seen, Jay." She cuddled back into him.

"There have only been two," he chuckled.

She tilted her head back and met his eye. "But I've never seen them with you."

Love shined in his eye, another firework lighting up his face. He held her gaze and then leaned her back in his arms and kissed so slow and deep.

Her heart melted. The fireworks booming in the background and the flashing of color behind closed eyes only made it more romantic. In the end, this had turned out to be a perfect date.


	39. Chapter 39

He stormed into her office at his house at seven thirty a few mornings later and slammed the door.

She looked up from the laptop as he dropped into the chair on the other side of the desk. His face flushed and eye burned with anger. He still had to wear a bandage instead of any type of mask. The man did prove to be a stubborn patient. "Are you arguing with the nurse again, Jason?" She resumed writing notes on a piece of paper.

"She doesn't need to be here!" he barked in a temper. "Dammit, the agreement was she'd go Wednesday. It's Wednesday!" He practically spat out the words.

"Your temp jumped again to one hundred two Sunday morning and didn't stay down until Sunday night. The agreement I wrestled out with the physician was you didn't have to go to the hospital if the nurse stayed for seventy two hours from the time your temp stayed down." She glanced at him, keeping her voice calm and patient. "She will leave this afternoon - "

He scowled. "Hospitalization is only for forty eight hours. There's no need for her to stay seventy two," he growled and his eye narrowed. That glare likely made hot shots in business meetings cower in fear, but he was at a disadvantage having let her see what a teddy bear he was underneath.

Breaking it to him that the physician required the extra observation time due to the burns wouldn't be easy, but he pressed like he suspected what was going on. She set down the pen and looked at him. "Honey, it's just until this evening. He said you can resume easy activity today. Why are you so opposed to the nurse? She's nice and seems to know what she's doing."

"I don't need a goddamn nurse!" he snapped through clenched teeth. "I'm a bloody physician and there are three other people here to notice if I drop dead."

Drawing a deep breath, she mustered up patience. "Jason, we agreed that I stay only if the nurse gets to stay too." Then she said in a stern tone, "She doesn't leave until she says you're fine."

He heaved a sigh and shoved himself up to leave in a tantrum. Apparently he'd been asking for her permission to dismiss the nurse. A smile tugged at her lips. It was a little funny that a man his size who could run million dollar business deals took orders from a shy woman half his size. "How is your skin looking, honey?"

The man threw his hands in the air at the door and turned. "She's being a pain in the ass about that too!"

Oh dear. He seemed just a tad stressed. She got up and walked over to wrap her arms around him. "Come sit for a moment and let me rub your back." She tugged him over to the chair and pulled off his suit jacket. "You're at home and just getting over heat stroke. The nurse said you'll be prone to it again for the next week or so. You are not going to wear such hot clothes." She set aside his jacket and started massaging, careful of the poor burn on his shoulder that insisted on being dry and almost raw. "Tell me what has you so frustrated."

"She insisted on checking vitals this morning, so I let her. She insisted on taking a look at my shoulder, so I bit my tongue and let her." His voice got more and more worked up. "Then she wanted to see my face to see if I need to go to the hospital!"

"Honey, she's doing her job. Is your face worse and that's why you won't let her see?"

He hesitated. "No."

That wasn't convincing. "Jason," she warned.

He shrugged off her hands and got up. "Why can't everyone leave me alone?!" The man ran a hand through his hair, so stressed he looked like he was going to climb the wall.

"Whoa, Jason. Stop. I'm not here to fight you." She frowned and held up her hands as he paced. "No one's trying to smother you, and no one wants to see you end up in the hospital."

With an angry grunt, he thrust a finger at the door with a pointed look, as if arguing that the nurse had other plans.

"We just want you to get well and prevent things from getting worse." Everyone had been climbing on top of him the past five days, and she'd slept in the same room to keep an eye on his temperature through the nights. He didn't need to know yet that two nights ago was the first night he hadn't climbed to ninety nine point nine; hence the around-the-clock nurse observation. He was agitated like he needed space. Even twenty minutes would be enough for him to feel like he could breathe again and then they could talk about how the burns looked. She stepped in his path and had to stretch her hands to hold his thick upper arms. "You need some time alone. Do you want to go read in your room for a bit? I'll tell everyone to give you space for a little while."

"No, I need to do something. Walk outside - "

"Well, how warm is it outside?" She bit her lip. He'd have a fit if it was too warm to go outside now too.

"Sixty five." He ran his hands over his head and locked them behind his neck to start pacing again.

Oh dear. He was like a caged animal. The man wasn't getting time alone to decompress like the therapist had suggested, and now it was backfiring. "Okay, but you need to change into something cooler. Take it easy and stay near the house so we can see if you have heat trouble." Perhaps laps around the house alone would help release some of his tension.

"Do you have to work before eight thirty?"

"No, I worked late last night, so Olin said I can start an hour late today - "

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door.

She walked beside him down the road a few minutes later. It was one of the few times he wore shorts and a t-shirt instead of a suit. He looked good in street clothes. The man didn't protest when she'd insisted on a waterbottle to prevent him from getting dehydrated again. The pace he set was quick, but not overly strenuous. The shade from the trees offered respite from the sun. Birds chirped. A pair of deer crossed the quiet road that cut through the woods. The exercise and Nature seemed to help dissipate some of his stress.

After nearly a quarter mile of silence, he glanced over. "It's cracked open and bleeding a bit. I started using antibiotic cream yesterday because it's hard to keep out infection. The nurse wants me in the hospital."

Amazing. Relieving some of the stress made him open right up. So the problems with his burn were what had him so agitated. "Do you just not want to go, or you don't agree?" She frowned in concern.

"Both. There are three spots besides my forehead, which you have healing well. Contractures pulled them open, but they're still small enough they might heal on their own." A car came down the paved road. He set a hand on her back and guided her closer to the side, putting himself between the car and her. "Stevens has helped in the past and agrees we might be able to manage the lesions ourselves."

"May I help?" She took the waterbottle from him and sipped from the straw only to make it seem less like babying when she offered it to him.

He took a drink and shook his head. "If they were near the edges, perhaps, but they're not." Then he glanced at his watch and pointed to cross the road, signaling to turn around.

"So we watch it at home for a couple days. You're a doctor - you can watch if they start getting worse or infected. I think you're a big enough boy to say if you need to go to the hospital." She gave him a pointed look.

An embarrassed flush crept up his neck, but he kept his gaze forward. "I will, Emma."

She bit her lip. "Speaking of talking...I know I was standoffish last night. I don't want you to think I'm mad that you were there for the phone call with the therapist."

He frowned and slipped his hand into hers. "I know you were dealing with the emotions of embarrassment and shame having me in on the session. I felt the same way while you were sitting in on the support group on Monday night. The good news is the therapist said we're on the right track for helping you not be afraid of intimacy and men."

"You felt ashamed and embarrassed? Oh, Jason, don't. You're not a complainer, and it helped me to understand what it's like to be in your body. Like, I didn't know your shoulder and neck ache and you have to do daily stretches to keep the contractures from locking them up. And when..." She brushed at her eyes when the tears sprung. "When that new young woman was crying and posted a before and after picture of her burned face and said a man hasn't told her since her accident that she's pretty..." He set a hand on her back when she took a shakey breath. "It was so sweet of you to say that you think she's pretty because you can see her smile light up her lovely blue eyes." She sniffled and laughed at her own silliness for crying over it. "I think every woman on the phone fell in love with you."

His arm slipped around her waist. "You taught me what beauty is, Emma." His voice flowed low and intimate with love. "I'd like you to come to another support meeting. It helps having you there because it's hard for me to talk about things that are physically different now, such as moving my shoulder. I know that I'm blessed in comparison to what some burn survivors go through. At times I'm jealous of the man who lost half of his leg because he can put on a prostetic and make his disfigurement disappear to the common observer. But then I'm thankful that my body wasn't burned so bad that I can't walk like the older woman from Kentucky." He shrugged. "I suppose we all wish we had someone else's injury."

She looked up at him in concern. "Do I make you feel bad about your body?"

A soft smile tugged at his lips. "Never. It seems like I should envy you or Stevens or Ms. Van Hoodie, but I don't. Sometimes it is very hard to be around the two of them when I'm ill or recovering, because they do look at me a little different during those times. But overall they just see me, like you do." He shrugged, seeming ready to end his topic. "I'm sorry, that was inconsiderate of me to run away with the conversation. You seemed like you had something important to say - "

She cracked a smile. "I love that you don't forget about me, Jay."

He scowled. "What? Why on earth would I forget about you?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "People forget about me - that I'm in the room or that I was saying something... Even in school the teachers would forget to pair me up for projects. I've just always been forgettable." She glanced at him.

A deep frown wrinkled his brow. "I'm never going to forget about you. When you need a partner and the room has cleared out, I'll be there waiting for you, Emma."

She swallowed down a lump in her throat. "It never occurred to me that you wouldn't, but I still feel surprised when I find you there waiting. It feels good each time I see that you remembered me. I'll wait for you too."

He brushed a kiss on the back of her hand. "I know you would. And it feels good that you feel good when I wait." Then he chuckled, happiness deeping the smile lines of his face. "Never in a million years did I think I'd ever be one of those men who becomes a sappy pushover for a woman, but I love it." She smiled.

"Anyways, sweetheart, I knew you were simply dealing with emotions last night and needed some space. If I think you're upset with me over something, I'll ask you about it. Did it help you to have me there for the phone call or make it worse? I noticed at times that you'd sit in the chair next to me, and then other times you'd sit in my lap."

Her face burned. "Goodness, it's almost embarrassing to feel so comfortable with you that I can talk about these things."

His pace slowed to a leisurely walk. "I wish for us to have a marriage where we can have the security to talk about difficult or embarrassing things without judgement, Emma." His hand rubbed her back.

She bit her lip for a moment and kept her eyes on the road, even though he looked at her. "It was humiliating talking about what it physically felt like when he was..." Her face crumpled and she wrapped her arms around herself. He stopped to pull her into a hug, but she shook her head. "I wanna keep walking." So he kept walking beside her, with just a hand resting on her back.

"While he was...inside me." She almost choked on the words. "But at the same time it was kind of a relief for you to know." The embarrassment faded in comparison to the fear. She stopped and looked up at him, the tears coming faster. "I'm scared of having sex with you because I don't want it to feel like what it did with him." She shook her head. Panic tried to rear up.

Tears glistened in his eye as he cupped her face in his hands and brushed away her tears. "Emma, it's not going to be like what it was with him. He forced your body into taking him when you weren't ready - "

"But you're taller and broader than him and..." She waved a hand toward his waist, indicating his size might be larger than Gaston. "On our wedding night, I don't want the burning and tearing of being stretched, or the painful fullness that has to be kinda what giving birth feels like." She hugged herself tighter. "I just want it done. Just do it right now and get the tearing done before we get married. I don't want to be scared our whole engagement about how much the wedding night is going to hurt. I have nightmares about it that even though you're gentle - I scream and bleed everywhere." All the blood. So much blood in the apartment that night...

"Emma," he said, his voice stern as her hysteria started to rise. He held her shoulders. "First of all, there is a world of difference between rape and making love. The pleasure you'd feel when I'd touch you - that's what making love feels like, Emma. We're not having sex because you're scared - you'll just be tense and that _will_ make it painful. We're not making love our first few nights of being married either. When you're comfortable enough, I will touch you in pleasurable ways to see if it seems like you'd be able fit me. If you _want_ , we can try gradual methods over weeks to see if the scar tissue can be stretched enough for us to fit without pain. It's not much different than how I have to stretch my scars, and I promise it's not painful if you don't rush stretching."

She sniffled. "It's not?"

"No, sweetheart." His heart shined through his eye, and it was breaking inside over her fear. "I am not going to do anything that will cause pain. If we still can't fit, we can pleasure each other and make love in other ways without having intercourse. If you decide that even the mental trauma from it is too much and you never want intercourse, I'm going to love you just as much. I would rather have you and be completely celebate in every way possible rather than have someone else and wild fantasy sex." He held her eyes. "I mean it, Emma. You're worth so much to me."

Her heart melted. He would do it too. "I want to at least try." She cupped his hand on her cheek. "Would you sit with me for the next session tomorrow night too?"

"I would figure out how to lift the world if you asked me, Emma," he whispered in a thick voice. "Of course I'll be there." He kissed her brow.

They continued walking together in silence for a few minutes. "We should make plans for our six-month anniversary, love."

She smiled. "Our anniversary isn't technically for another six weeks." She nudged his arm with her shoulder.

"If it's from when we met, it's in a week," he countered with a grin.

A laugh bubbled up. "Are you rushing things, Jay?"

He smiled and caughter her arm, pulling her off the road. "Do you wish I would?" His arms wrapped around.

"I asked you first," she giggled.

A fake sigh of exasperation escaped him, and he looked up at the sky for a moment. "Let me answer that for you." He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.

His open-mouth kiss carressed so soft and gentle. She sighed and leaned into him, burying her fingers in his silky hair and wrapping her other hand around his muscular back. Butterflies tickled inside her belly, creating excitement and giddiness and joy. He pressed her up against a tree, bracing his hands behind her back and protecting from the rough scratches of the bark. His tongue trailed over her bottom lip. His soft, playful bite on her lower lip made her heart beat faster. Electric heat shot down to her toes. Then his sweet tongue swept into her mouth and darted over her tongue. She gasped in delicious surprise, but he captured the sound with his mouth. One sip of him made everything tilt as she got drunk on his love. A soft moan from deep in her throat broke the silence. She pressed against him, her body pulsing for his touch.

He broke the wonderful kiss and leaned his forehead against hers, his chest heaving. "We'd better get back so you aren't late for work."

Her chest heaved, and she grabbed handfuls of his shirt. "One more minute." She jerked him down for another kiss. And he did not disappoint. When his arousal pressed against her hip, panic flitted through for a moment and she broke off the kiss. "Fine, you win. July 15 is our anniversary." She bit her lip and looked up at him.

He smiled, desire shining just as strong in his eye. He didn't move, though, as if sensing her nervousness.

She gave him a sassy look and ducked under his arm. When she backed up toward the road with a grin, he turned with a curious smile. "If we're moving our anniversary up, I want a ring six weeks sooner then too." Not saying six weeks sooner than what exactly left it vague and not too pushy, but it still got the point across.

He smiled and started to follow. "Oh you do, do you?"

She took a few steps back down the side of the road and nodded. He didn't seem to balk but rather seemed quite intrigued and playful.

"Then convince me with a kiss." He stopped and set his hands on his hips. That mischevious grin spelled trouble.

"No," she giggled and stopped too. "You're going to tickle me."

His mouth fell open in false offense.

She laughed and glanced over her shoulder to back up. A footstep sounded. Her head whipped around. He darted forward with a grin. A shriek and laugh cut through the woods when her heart shot to her throat in surprise. She spun around to run.

His laughter followed on her heels, and his arm wrapped around her waist just a few steps down the road. When he gathered her in his arms against his chest, she squirmed and squealed with laughter in a fruitless attempt to escape. He belly laughed and kissed her cheek. "I won't tickle, sweetheart."

She relaxed in his arms and gasped for air from laughing so hard.

"Uh oh. Do we need to find a rest stop again?"

She blinked. "What?"

He slung her over his left shoulder like she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. "It's the outback! The wallabys are coming!" He started trotting down the road.

She burst out laughing and pushed herself up on his back to avoid the headrush of hanging upside down. "You idiot, I don't have to go to the bathroom like on our trip!" Oh god, if he kept making her laugh like this, she would be crossing her legs soon. "You're not supposed to exercise yet. Put me down."

"It's not exercising - you're like carrying a bird." The man slid her down and set her on her feet. She held onto his shoulder as the blood rushed from her head and evened out again. He grinned like a fool. "Are you alright?"

She nodded but didn't let go. "Jay, we don't have a picture of us together." A touchy subject but not one that could be avoided. She looked up at him. Maybe when he was healed and could wear his plastic mask again, he'd agree.

"One." He pulled out his phone.

That was easy.

He held it out and leaned his head down next to hers. "Ready?"

She laughed. "Sure."

"One, two, three." Except on three he kissed her cheek and she burst out laughing. He chuckled and straightened. Encircling his arms around her, he held the phone down and looked over her shoulder as he clicked on the photo. "That's a good picture of you, Em." A smile lightened his voice.

The unburned side of his face was toward the camera, and her face was lit up with a bright belly laugh. If he didn't want his burns showing in any way, she'd take it. "You look cute, Jay. Thank you." She tapped his screen and took the liberty of texting it to her phone.

The sweet man simply chuckled and held the phone while she typed in her number. "Typing in your name is faster, sweetheart." Keeping his arms around her, he deleted the numbers and started typing her name. A long list of contacts popped up as it searched for her name. Then it found her as he kept typing her first name. A tiny picture was beside it.

"Wait, what is that?" She tapped to send the message and then tapped her name to bring up her contact info. It was a picture of her laughing in a car. It was the rental car from their Florida trip. Her eyes flew to him. "You have pictures of me?" He'd never said that he'd wanted photos of her. The Chicago skyline photo that she'd taken on their first date and the one of her working at her desk last winter were the only ones she'd seen.

"Of course." He smiled. "I probably should've said I was taking them. Emotions are so intense on your face that I don't want to ruin the moment." He opened the photo app and tapped on a folder with her name on it. Several photos popped up, including one of her mesmerized watching the opera on their first date, her sitting beside her mom in the aboretum talking, her listening intently as Pete taught her how to bake some cookies, her dancing in the bedroom in his shirt, and several others all with expressive emotions. "This is my favorite." He blew up a picture of her stepping out of the car in the driveway with Prince, so much joy and love lighting up her face. The morning sun cast a glow over her hair and face. "I took this from the window of my office when you came a few weeks ago. You look so happy every time you come, like every drop of joy in the world is bottled up in you."

She smiled up at him. "Because I get to see you."

He set a hand over his heart, as if trying to keep it from melting, and his eye grew misty. His gazed diverted as he put his phone back in the belt clip she'd given him. Then he cleared his throat, looked at her, and took her hands. "Emma, I said one year would be the earliest for us getting engaged. Do you feel that's too fast?"

Her smile fell. It was too fast for him. "There's no rush if you need more time or aren't sure." She almost choked on the words. He always talked like he knew he wanted to marry her.

"No..." Concern wrinkled his brow as he searched her eyes. "I don't know that I want to wait a year." He pressed his lips together like he expected to be shot down.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise.

"Not that we have to and I don't want you to think I'm doing it for our six-month anniversary, but it was simply something I wanted to throw out and see what you thought. I love you so much." His hands tightened in hers, and he didn't seem to even realize it.

She nodded, her smile growing bigger by the second.

"You would?" He blinked and his eyebrow rose in surprise. She nodded, holding his hands tighter. His smile grew, the excitement from him becoming palpable. "I mean getting engaged before Christmas." When she nodded again, her wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss on her lips, swinging her around.

It was the first time she'd seen him glow so brightly with joy.

On the way back, he turned on the radio on his cell phone. Mr. Funny tried to make her laugh by singing along with a female vocalist's song that made his voice crack. Ms. Genius caught him on video.

She burst through the front door with him hot on her heels. "No! You're not keeping that video!" he laughed and lunged for the phone as she giggled and darted away.

Trudy and Pete stared from the doorway of the kitchen.

She deleted the video and typed in 'Make Me Wanna' country/pop song in the search engine. When he grabbed her around the waist and snatched the phone away, the song started playing. "I deleted it," she laughed and kicked off her tennis shoes.

He gave her a suspicious look and scrolled through the phone.

Ten minutes left before work. She danced across the foyer to the beat, with her hands over her head, and wove a path to her office. She spun in a circle, feeling so happy and energetic that it didn't matter that Trudy and Pete gawked across the room.

He didn't seem to notice the audience because he smiled and kicked off his shoes. His grin widened when she smiled and wiggled a finger for him to come. Then he ran a few steps and slid in his socks across the foyer. She belly laughed and held out her hands to keep him from plowing into her. He caught her hand and spun her into his arms. Her laughter echoed through the foyer as she danced with him.

The man was good at just fun, informal dancing and seemed to get more energy the more she smiled. He spun her into a dip. When she squeaked in surprise and grabbed him tight, he leaned down and pecked a kiss on her lips. "Ay'm not goin' ta drop ya, Em," he said, not seeming to even realize he'd slipped into his accent. Then he uprighted her and swept her across the room with a smile. The music faded away and he ended their dance at her office door.

She breathed a little fast from the exertion and rested her hands on his chest. He seemed hardly winded. "I don't want to work now. I had fun this morning."

A little bit of the sparkle left his eye. "I don't want to work either." He didn't release her hand.

Fast footsteps marched over. The nurse stopped on Jason's blind side and planted her hands on her hips.

He didn't seem to have heard the woman because he didn't look over and opened his mouth to say something. She looked at him and then tilted her head toward the nurse. He turned his head and spotted the woman. The joy fled his face, and burdens and sadness clouded his eye again. Her heart fell from where they'd been dancing on Cloud Nine.

"What do you think you're doing going out and then goofing off like that when you're not well?" the nurse scolded.

His eye hardened. "You will mind your place, Mrs. Sawyer," he cut in, his voice ice cold.

She blinked in surprise and glanced at Trudy and Pete. They slipped into the kitchen. Something was going on.

"You need to be in the hospital, not flouncing around in the heat and wearing yourself out," the nurse fretted with a scowl. The tension in the room shot through the roof.

She frowned and took a step closer to him. "It was hardly exertion for how much exercise he's used to, and it's good for him to play. He needed to get out in the fresh air. You checked him already this morning, and we didn't do anything he can't tolerate yet."

The nurse looked at her. "His body is weak, and his burns are peeling and cracking - "

"Get out," he snarled.

The nurse remained calm. "I know it seems like an awful surgery, but you don't have to live like a hermit."

Her stomach dropped to her feet and breakfast nearly came up. The nurse had been discussing some kind of surgery with him - that's why he couldn't stand her.

"There are better ways to do grafts now that will take away a great deal of the hypertrophic scars," the nurse said.

His chest heaved. The veins in his neck protruded. He glared with ferocity. The only other times he'd looked so enraged were when protecting her from Gaston.

"The - " the nurse started to say.

"Get out!" His roar echoed through the foyer and the halls upstairs.

She startled as hard as the nurse. Her heart hammered in her ears that still rang from his scream. "Jason, come talk to me." She set her hands on his chest and tried to push him back without success. His livid glare didn't leave the nurse. So she looked at the nurse over her shoulder. "Go in the kitchen and do not say a word until I come talk to you," she ordered. Then she turned back to him. "Jay, go sit for a moment and I'll be right there," she said in soft tones that would cut under the anger. When his eye flicked to her, he complied with being led into her office.

Then she marched into the kitchen. "Do not ever make him feel like he's inadequate or there is something wrong with him. Am I clear?" Her voice was nothing short of steele.

The nurse sat at the table and nodded, looking ashamed. Pete and Trudy looked at her with wide eyes.

"The next time you do anything like that, it's your last minute in this house. I _will not_ have this conversation ever again in this house." It took all her strength to not explode.

Trudy and Pete smiled, seeming pleased that she fought for him.

He was sitting in a chair and leaning forward to hold his head when she walked in. "I was ashamed to tell you," he whispered.

She knelt in front of him and rested her hands on his knees. "Why, honey? Do you fear that I would want the surgery?"

"I feared that you would see a future with something not as deformed and be disappointed if the graft failed. You need to be willing to marry me for me and not have hopes of what might be." He lifted his head from his hands and met her eyes. "And I'm scared." A tear rolled down his cheek. "I likely wouldn't feel it even if they did the surgery without anesthesia because practically all the nerves are dead. But to have the scars shaved off almost down to the bone and then be in the hospital for a month, with infection and failure rates so high..." He shook his head. "I wasn't ready to tell you about it yet."

Tilting her head down, she looked into his eye. "Look at me and tell me that you believe any part of me desires you to go through that. I don't care if it's painful or not. Do you think it would make me love you more if I walked on the arm of a man with even a perfectly symmetrical face?"

He swallowed hard. "It would make certain things in life easier on you and the children - "

Setting a hand to his lips, she shook her head. "No, it wouldn't." He frowned. "Seeing your new face would be proof every day that maybe my love is conditional. I would be ashamed to become your wife because you are so beautiful that you deserve a woman who can only see that beauty." She laid a hand over his heart. "In the beginning, I too thought that you were a hermit, but you've created a beautiful world of roses that extends beyond these walls, Jason. But with the beauty of the roses comes the bad in the thorns. Within the roses and thorns, we will build a life together."


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's Note: My child and dog took turns being in the ER at night this week, and then the server crashed and erased my chapter. Hence, the long time to update.**

 **I just realized that in the last chapter I had Emma agree that their six-month anniversary could be from when they met, making it July 15. But that's if they count from when they actually started dating. I realized this when I was counting baby's birthday! I gotta fix that. Her birthday was late January, which doesn't work with July 15 either. We're going with July 24 as their anniversary from when they started dating in January. Gotta go back and fix the last chapter.**

 **Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

The doorbell rang. Prince scrambled out of the bathroom to the front door and barked with excitement. No, no, no. Jason was five minutes early for the anniversary date. Only half of her hair was curled. Hiking up her yellow-gold shimmering evening dress, she trotted through her living room in her gold high heels to the door. Jason stood on the other side of the peep hole. She opened the door and hid behind it. "Don't look. I'm almost ready."

He chuckled and stepped in, turning his head away as he shut the door. "Take your time. Traffic was light, so I'm a few minutes early. Go ahead and escape, sweetheart." When Prince snorted and almost fell over from his tail whipping so fast, Jason bent down and scratched Prince's ears. "How pretty does she look already?"

Prince moaned and gave a rusty howl-bark in response.

"That pretty? I don't know, boy. She looks that pretty every day."

She flushed. Slipping past him offered ample time to take in his handsomeness. He wore a suit of higher quality than usual and held a thick bouquet of long stem red, yellow, white and pink roses. They were lush and vibrant - roses from his garden that was finally recovering from the black spot illness last winter. His hair shined as if he had put gel in. He wore a white plastic mask. Hm. Not his usual style - not unattractive, just different.

"Jason, you're not supposed to wear anything over your wounds yet." She stepped around him.

"I have the bandage on. It's just for a few hours tonight. It won't harm the skin grafts. They were done a little over a week ago." He stood but didn't look.

She bit her lip. "But you haven't even been out of the hospital for a week." The conversation the morning she'd gone to the hospital with him for surgery hadn't come up again. He'd pulled her into his lap and had wept on her bosom. That morning still haunted her dreams.

"The scalpals and pain and hospitals are never going to end," he'd whispered and held her tighter as the tears fell.

The sight of him so weary and frightened had almost been her undoing. The doctors and nurses had tried to fix the scars on his body in the hospital, but they seemed to have forgotten about the ones his mind bore. She'd stayed strong for him - helped him to walk after surgery when his leg from the skin graft was so painful, held his hand when one of the three skin grafts failed and required daily debrieding to avoid gangrene, assisted him in eating when his already scarred throat swelled up from being intubated for surgery... Then when he had stabilized after a couple days, he'd held her when she'd cried from the worry and stress of it all.

"No, we aren't canceling," he ordered, cutting into her thoughts. "I hindered our Fourth of July plans and then ruined our actual anniversary by being in the hospital - "

"You did not ruin it. We were together, and that's what mattered. We're making up the date now, which I still think is too soon," she muttered the last part.

"Emma, I'm fine." His voice came out clipped and almost irritated. The man was a tad touchy about being coddled since getting out of the hospital. He turned and opened his eye. "If - " His words cut off as his eye traveled down the gold off-the-shoulder chaffon capped sleeves to the fitted bodice and on to the full skirt that gathered in sweeping columns. "Oh, Emma, you look beautiful," he whispered in awe.

"No!" She whipped up a hand in his face. "My hair isn't done." Spinning around, she grabbed her skirt and ran to the bathroom.

He burst out laughing. "I promise that it didn't detract from how dazzling you look, sweetheart. Do you need help?" he called.

She wound more hair in the curler. "No, I'm almost done. Do I get to find out now where we're going for this masquerade tonight?"

"That defeats the purpose of a surprise, love."

Twisting the last strands in the curler, she dug out the diamond barrette he'd given on her birthday. A sharp pang of grief shot through her chest. The last time she'd worn it had been the night her dad had died and the last time they'd gone out for a formal date. She set down the barrette.

"No sassy reply?" He peeked in and sobered. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" He stepped in and reached for the barrette, taking her hair in a half updo out of her hand. "He'd want you to be happy, Em," he said, his voice so full of gentle compassion. "I kept pushing off taking you out like this so you wouldn't think about what happened, but I think I've only made it harder." He clipped the barrette in and rested his hands on her bare shoulders. "We'll take tonight a bit at a time. We can come back whenever you want, sweetheart." His warm hands glided down her arms, and he offered his hand. "You can do this. Trust me that I'll be there for you, Emma."

Swallowing back the tears, she nodded and took his hand.

The roses were in a vase on the kitchen table. "They're beautiful, Jason. Thank you." Something about him seemed odd, but it was hard to put a finger on it.

"I plan on being more faithful in giving you flowers, sweetheart. Sending them from a florist didn't seem as genuine as laboring over growing them myself when you said your favorite flowers are roses. They took longer to recover than I expected, and I ended up neglecting giving you any at all." He led her to them. "I'll make up for it."

She frowned. "I never expected you to give me flowers."

"Which makes me wish to give you them all the more." He smiled and reached for a red rose. Then he seemed to reconsider and pulled out a yellow one. "Yellow represents joy, friendship, or get well wishes." Then he pulled out a small pocket knife and cut the stem to just a few inches. "You're the embodiment of my joy and my best friend, Emma." Then he tucked it in amongst her barrette, his voice low and intimate. He cut a red and white rose too and tucked them in. "The red is because you're my love, and the white is because you teach me what it means to be strong and pure." He fussed with adjusting the flowers just right. "Four won't fit." His voice softened. "Pink is gratitude for staying by my side through everything."

The grief and sadness faded, replaced by warmth and love. She turned in his arms and looked into his eye. Tonight might be painful, but he'd be there to lean on if she stumbled. Tilting her head back for a kiss, her heart melted when he brushed the gentlest of kisses over her lips and lingered for a moment. When he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open.

Slicked black hair. A white mask on half a face. A suit. A bell rang ever so faint. She cocked her head and searched his face. Then her eyes bugged. The Phantom of the Opera. "Why are you dressed like that?" This had to be some kind of sick joke.

A smile spread across his lips. "We're going to a masquerade. Clever, don't you think? No one will ever suspect a thing."

She took a step back, almost horrified. To dress like a character who had gone insane from his burns to his face and who would never find love? It made a mockery of all the loss and grief Jason had endured, of the beautiful, strong man he'd become. "That's not funny, it's disgusting."

He rolled his eye. "Have a sense of humor." With a smile, he pulled her closer.

"No." She pushed against his chest, and he released her, his smile fading. "That's sick and I don't find it funny, Jason."

He frowned. "It's not meant to be a joke, it's simply an easy way for me to blend in." His hand reached for hers.

Pressing her lips together, she jerked her hand away. It felt so wrong, so cruel to go with him dressed as some insane creature shunned by Society...because part of it was so true - he viewed himself as a beast and the world refused to embrace him. "No. I won't go with you dressed like him."

A deep sigh escaped him as he searched her eyes. "I'm not implying that I think you see me as this deranged, deformed being whom you're going to leave in the end - "

"All you did is change the color of your mask and slick back your hair." She frowned.

"Emma - " He reached for her again.

She backed up, her heart pounding with distress. "No! This is wrong and cruel." How could he think she'd go along with something like this?

He stepped forward and caught her upper arms. "Stop. Let me speak for a moment."

Dropping her eyes to his waist, she stilled.

"I must wear a full face mask. People would stare if it was the flesh tone because that's obvious there is something else behind it. It's a chance to be 'normal' tonight, to not have stares and whispers. That's all, Emma." He caught her chin with his finger and turned her face up to meet his eye. "For one, I didn't know the color of your dress, so white was a safe choice to not clash. For another, there will be fewer stares and questions about the mask wrapping around my head if people think it's a Phantom of the Opera imitation." His voice fell to a soft hum. "I want to be just us tonight. I want to forget for a bit what I am and just be with you on a real date."

Her heart fell to the floor and echoed with all the hollowness in his words. He did have a point that many people would overlook the mask this way, but running from reality would teach him to hide. "How can I not be implying in some way that I agree with what this represents? What is it saying to you?" Laying a hand over the soft thump of his heart, she searched his blue eye. "I do not want a date where we forget what has happened because I love you for whom you've become. There is so much beauty where you see a beast." She stroked his cheek. "A mask cannot change that, Jason."

A light flickered in his eye. Strength floated up from somewhere deep inside. "I do see your point in dressing like him, although it didn't occur to me that way. But I do agree that I would wonder about your true thoughts as the night went on." He seemed disappointed, as if he'd ruined the night.

"Let's stop at a craft store and paint it gold to match my dress, Jason."

A soft smile brightened his eye. "We have twenty five minutes before we have to be on the plane." He grabbed her hand and hurried out.

A plane? Hm. The masquerade must be in another town.

* * *

"This one?" He whipped opened a paint bottle and held it closer to her dress.

"No, that's really yellow. It's needs a bit more antique to it." She snatched another bottle of the fifty different golds. Five minutes before the plane would depart. "We're taking your jet, right?"

"Yes, but we only have runway clearance for a few more minutes." He shook his head and put the bottle back. "Antique gold? What male knows what that means? Man language, sweetheart."

She smiled. "Darker gold, not so much yellow."

"Ah. Like this?" He picked up a bottle.

"Yes! What do the directions say for drying time?"

He scanned the bottle as she shoved the others back in their racks. "It says to apply - "

"Andrew?" a melodious female voice interrupted.

She stilled. Who would call him that or even recognize him? She frowned and glanced up at him.

He paled sheet white and froze for a split instant. Then he slowly turned and slipped an arm around her waist, holding tight.

When he moved aside, a beautiful, elegant woman stood there. Her thick blonde hair fell to her shoulders, her ocean blue eyes sparkled, and she stood just a couple inches shorter than Jason. A flowing blue summer dress accentuated her curves that were already luscious again after giving birth just a few months ago. A gorgeous baby girl with dark curls sat up in the front of the cart.

Her heart dropped for Jason. This was the woman who had walked out when he had been lying on a respirator and burned alive with not one single soul in the world to stand by him - all the while losing ties with everyone from his previous life, grieving the loss of a man who had been like a father, and suffering through his own disfigurement and pain. And now Carolyn made him uncomfortable and self-conscious all over again. Flames of hate tried to lap up, but that wouldn't honor Jason. He loved her for her kindness, and so she would be kind to this woman for his sake. Pity took it's place - pity that this woman had lost the most wonderful man in the world.

"Hello, Carolyn." He pasted on a smile, but tension coiled in his body.

Carolyn's smile faltered just a bit when she saw he had a female companion. "It's good to see you." She stepped forward and gave him a hug.

He only lifted one arm to give a brief hug so as not to be rude and then stepped back. His grip around her waist tightened. "Emma, this is my ex, Carolyn."

A flash of hurt flitted across the woman's face. But of course it would - this was probably the first time Carolyn had ever heard him call her his ex. The hurt was quickly replaced by a sad smile. "You remembered that I don't like 'Carol.'"

He frowned, the lines creating deep groves around his mouth and eye. "I should hope I honor when a lady requests not to be called something." Carolyn's face fell, as if his words had just broken her heart. "Carolyn, this is..." He paused for a fraction of a second. But in that fraction, a pang of regret from him hit, as if in this moment it would mean the world to him to be able to call her his fiance. "My girlfriend, Emma."

She smiled and held out her hand. The poor woman looked like she might cry in a moment. "Hello, Carolyn."

Carolyn smiled and shook it. "Oh my, you're very beautiful. You two look like you're going somewhere." The woman self-consciously ran a hand down her plain summer dress. "I shouldn't keep you." Carolyn's discomfort grew more palpable.

Jason, bless his heart, couldn't seem to bear to cause someone the same unsettled feelings that others so often bestowed upon him. Instead of instantly cutting off the conversation like he so clearly wanted, he continued. "Yes, I'm taking her to a masquerade. We have to catch my plane in a minute - "

Carolyn smiled. "Yes, I've heard you've done so well for yourself and opened that children's foundation," she cut in, her nerves painfully obvious.

Instead of expanding on the comment and boasting to an ex like so many men would, he remained humble. He nodded toward the baby. "Congratulations. She's beautiful."

Carolyn smiled and stroked the baby's chubby cheek. "Thank you. Samantha. She's five months old and my little princess." Then she looked at him in all seriousness and took in the mask. "How are you doing, Andy?"

It was odd hearing someone call him by a name from his previous life - a nickname possibly only used by this woman. An aura of sadness washed over the conversation. It was almost as if Carolyn regretted leaving him. In an odd way, it seemed like she intruded on a private moment between them. However, he didn't seem inclined to release her waist.

A brave smile touched his lips. "Things turned out to be as bad as the doctors predicted. Things are more bearable since Emma came last Christmas." He held her tight and stood a little taller.

Her heart swelled with pride that he didn't act ashamed.

Carolyn's face fell and she pressed her lips together. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

She had to bow her head and swallow hard. The guilt and grief Carolyn carried almost ripped out her heart.

"Don't, Carolyn." All the forgiveness in the world fit in those two little words. "I wouldn't change a thing because we have happier lives now. I found Emma." He looked down with a tender smile.

She smiled, a bit embarrassed, and glanced at Carolyn. Something flashed through Carolyn's eyes that said perhaps life wasn't so much better. It wasn't pity in her stomach - it was sadness for this woman. Sadness that Carolyn seemed to realize too late what had been lost.

A tall, dark handsome man wearing jeans and a tight t-shirt walked up to Carolyn. "Are you coming, babe?" So this was the man who had taken Jason's place.

Carolyn nodded. "Ben, this is an old friend, Jason, and his girlfriend, Emma." She held Jason's eye the entire time during introductions.

Odd how the woman didn't call him 'Andy,' as if protective of his identity. Carolyn didn't seem to have an intentionally mean bone in her body - she'd demoted Jason's status for a reason...likely to protect his secret. Hm. So even Ben didn't know about Jason. "This is my husband Ben."

Ben shook Jason's extended hand without interest and didn't bother to acknowledge her. "Hey, man. Carol, are you done yet?" Ben flashed a smile at Jason. "Blondes. Hot but sometimes forgets what we're doing and that we have a schedule." His voice had a note of controlling sarcasm. Then he looked at Carolyn with a scowl. "The game is on in a half hour, and the guys are coming over, Carol. I told them you were making that barbecue. And that you wouldn't have it done an hour late this time." He slapped her backside, and Carolyn jumped. Ben might be hot, but his lack of manners burned just as much. Disrespect to a woman wouldn't sit well with Jason.

Jason's eye bore into Ben, who seemed oblivious. "You will be respectful to the ladies," he growled and took a step forward. She grabbed his arm - he didn't need to get in a brawl while fresh out of surgery.

Ben just laughed it off.

Carolyn flushed in humiliation and stared at the cart. "I'm coming. It was nice to meet you, Emma." Then her eyes raised to Jason's scowl at Ben. Her gaze softened in admiration. "Bye."

Ben grabbed the few items out of the cart. "Get the baby in the car," he snapped. "Later," he mumbled in departure.

Jason frowned and his eye followed Ben leave the aisle. Then he looked at Carolyn.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled and started unstrapping the baby from the cart. "Samantha was sick earlier this week, and we didn't sleep much..."

Her heart broke for the woman. Marriage wasn't a happily ever after there. Jason looked worried. She disengaged his arm from around her waist and set a hand on his back to urge him forward. Carolyn needed his gentleness, and she couldn't deny the woman having his compassion when it was so needed.

Jason took a step forward and set a hand on her arm. Carolyn stilled, unable to lift her eyes to him. "Is he kind to you? If you need somewhere to go until you can get on your feet..."

Carolyn's crystal blue eyes held his, with tears shimmering as she cradled the baby to her chest. "He doesn't abuse us." She shrugged with a forced smile. "He just isn't you, Andy," she whispered and looked into his eye. Then she bustled down the aisle and disappeared around the corner, leaving the empty cart behind.

His hand fell and he stood there staring after her. He didn't stand as tall, as if guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders.

She swallowed down the heartache of witnessing Carolyn so clearly in love with him yet and him so affected by his ex. He needed her support, not hurt or jealousy. Shoving down the emotions, she stepped forward and set a hand on his back. "Jay, it's not your fault."

He heaved a deep sigh. "No, but maybe if I wouldn't have turned her down a couple years ago when she'd asked to date again, I could've helped her see that she deserves someone who treats her better. I never loved her like I love you, Emma, but I don't wish to see her so sad."

Slipping her arms around him, she rested her cheek on his chest and shoved down the hurt of seeing him so moved by his ex. He needed her support. "She knows she can come to you if she needs help. That's all you can do right now." She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Carolyn clearly still loved him. The pain the woman must feel right now in having seen him with someone else - almost like losing him all over again - was unfathomable. "I love you."

"I love you, Emma. I love you so much." He held her tight. "Let's go, sweetheart."

* * *

She painted one side of the mask in a hurry while he painted the other in the backseat on the way to the airport. "We should've waited to start this on the plane," she laughed.

"Hurry! We're going to be there in five minutes. How long does this take to dry?" He chuckled and whipped the brush over his side of the mask. The man seemed more at ease now after the encounter at the store.

Snatching up the bottle, she scanned the label. "Ohhhh no. It says twenty four hours. I thought you checked the bottle." Her eyes whipped to his bandaged face.

His eyebrow shot up. "I thought paint is paint and dries in a few minutes. We were interrupted when I was reading it."

"Crap." Her finger slid along the tiny paragraph. "Apply an even layer of _glue_! What?!" She flipped the bottle over. "Oh shit, this is glue!"

He burst out laughing. "That's classic seeing you dressed to the nines and cursing."

The man didn't seem worried about the mask. "Tell me that you have another mask in the car."

"Nope." He rolled down the window. "We're living on the edge, Em." Then he held the mask out the window as they sped down the highway.

Her mouth fell open. "Don't drop it," she gasped.

He chuckled. "What else can we do? We don't exactly have something to wipe it off. Backup plan is we paint the bandages gold. At least the glue will keep them on." He smiled.

When they got to the airport, he pulled in the mask. His mouth curled up in disgust.

"Did it dry?" She unbuckled and scooted over. And sat back just as fast. "Ew!" Several bugs had splattered on it.

He tapped a clean spot. "Well, it's dry. And has decorations."

She picked up the bottle. "It says to wash...oh. To wash from skin." Her face dropped as her eyes widened. "It's permanent!"

His shoulders shook with laughter, and he wiped tears from his eye. "Ah, shit," he chuckled. "Let's see what else we can do to this thing before we make it there. Between the two of us, we have an IQ of nearly 400 and yet we can't paint a damn mask!" He almost doubled over from laughing.

She snorted a laugh. "You're not allowed to touch it anymore. Wash the bugs off in the bathroom and then don't touch it." At least he was in good humor about it.

When he walked her into his jet, the stewardess Ms. Wilson was there. The beautiful woman, with her volumptuous figure and pretty smile and newly manicured nails, didn't bat an eye seeing his head all bandaged. "Champaign is waiting for Ms. Hoplin, as requested, sir. The captain is ready for takeoff in five minutes."

He smiled and helped her sit in a seat that had a companion this time before turning to Ms. Wilson. "Please see that Ms. Hoplin is comfortable. I must try to fix a casualty." He held up the mask on his way past. The stewardess quickly smothered a look of disgust at seeing the nasty massacure.

Ms. Wilson turned to her when he stepped into the bathroom. "Would you like champaign, Ms. Hoplin?" She picked up an unopened bottle, smudging what must be a fresh manicure. Ms. Wilson, ever the professional, didn't react.

Jason was still weaning off pain pills and couldn't drink, not that he could drink from a glass anyways. It seemed odd to drink alone. "No, thank you. I'm fine."

Ms. Wilson left for the cockpit. Soft romantic music played over the speakers.

He belly laughed when he came out and held up the mask. Tissues were stuck on it now too. "The bugs won't come off."

Her hands flew to her mouth.

Ms. Wilson came out, all warmth and smiles. "Is there anything you require, Dr. Port?" She folded her hands together, the smudged nail as pristine now as the rest of her. Every fiber of the woman's body seemed to be zeroed in on him. "We should be arriving right on schedule, and a limo is there waiting at the airport."

She frowned at the woman. As if watching his ex fiancé almost ready to throw herself at him while she'd been standing right there hadn't been humiliating enough, now the stewardess practically batted her eyes at him.

His brow knit and he looked directly at Ms. Wilson for the first time tonight. "Limo?"

"Yes, sir. The car hit a pothole that damaged the wheel, so a limo was sent in it's place."

He nodded. "Very well. Thank you, Ms. Wilson." Then he sat as the stewardess returned to the cockpit. "Goodness, Em, you don't need to slay her with your glare." He patted her knee.

A pang shot through her chest that he would tease about it, that he seemed so oblivious. Didn't he understand how much it hurt to see the woman he had proposed to make it clear she'd come back if he wanted? And to see that he cared enough about his ex yet to have been so affected by the encounter? She looked out her window, her voice flat. "She's eager to please you."

"She's paid well to be eager to please me professionally, nothing more."

He would never stray, so she had no right to be upset when he hadn't done anything wrong. Still keeping her eyes out the window so he wouldn't see the pain and feel guilty, she shoved down the hurt and humiliation. "Ask her if she has acetone." When he didn't respond, she added, "She smudged a nail but fixed it before you came out. Acetone will break up the glue."

A warm hand slipped into hers. "I understand that must've been awkward at the store, Em. Thank you for being understanding with her." He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the inside of her palm.

His compassion unlocked a tear that rolled down her cheek. Still keeping her head turned until the emotions could get under control, she interlaced her fingers with his and held tight. "Don't thank me when I'm not being gracious," she whispered. "Ask her for the acetone before we run out of time." Her voice came out too soft and weak. He was probably hurting from the run-in with Carolyn and needed support. She had to wrestle these emotions under control in order to be there for him. "Excuse me." She slipped past to the bathroom.

She got in the small bathroom and leaned against the door. Closing her eyes, she blew out a shakey breath. Tonight was hard with memories of her dad threatening to surface and then the encounter with Carolyn and now the stewardess being overly eager. He probably needed to talk too. Drawing a deep breath, she shoved the emotions down into the iron box deep inside. The dark box had served well in hiding emotions since Gaston. But Jason had snuck in one December night and had found the key to unlock it. She had left it open for so long that the lid resisted when she tried to close it again. It shut and all the pain went away, leaving mostly numbness in its wake. She squared her shoulders and checked her reflection in the mirror. Running a finger along the dampness on her cheek, she wiped away the last traces of pain. Then she stepped out.

He stood there, intense concern marring his brow and creating creases in the corner of his eye. "Don't hide your pain from me, sweetheart."

Catching his sleeve, she tugged and then let go to walk back to their seats. Sitting with the armrest in between would help keep distance; if they stood, he'd cocoon her in his arms and make it harder to not cry. "There's nothing to be upset about. Did you ask her for the acetone?" She sat with a forced smile. The mask, rags, and bottle sat on his seat. Pulling down the tray from the seat in front of her, she started working on the gross mask to keep busy. The glue was coming off with some good friction.

He stood in front of his seat and turned to face her.

"Do you want to talk about her?" She kept her head down, drawing out all the patience and compassion while holding her own emotions back. It couldn't have been easy for him to see his ex again.

"No, I want to talk about your hurt feelings." He sat on the edge of the seat to face her. "I'm sorry, Emma - "

She frowned at the mask and scrubbed. "Don't be silly, Jason. There was nothing said or done to warrant me being hurt or jealous or whatever notion you have - "

He took the items and replaced them with his hands in hers. "Don't push me away. I would be hurt if this situation was reversed. You _are_ being gracious because you didn't have to push me to go talk to her. You didn't have to stand there with me, Emma." He bent his head to catch her eye. "I know you stayed because I needed you. I realized in the moment that it would be hard for you, but I also knew I could lean on you and we'd get through these complicated emotions afterwards. It was an automatic reaction to turn to you for support when I was scared, Emma."

Her eyes flew to him. "Scared?" Her heart drummed a little faster as he set a hand on that iron box hidden in the farthest recess of her soul.

"Having an ex fiance, who left me because she couldn't see past my burns and disabilities, standing with the woman I want to propose to was one of the most frightening moments of my life. I was afraid if you'd feel like she had some kind of leg up on you being I was engaged to her." He shook his head. "She didn't, Emma. And I was afraid of what she'd say about my burns. She's not mean, but sometimes she'd speak without thinking. She doesn't have your compassion, and I didn't know if she'd say something about the scars...I know you wouldn't look at me differently, but to be humiliated in front of you..."

She frowned, her heart aching. That's why he'd held onto her so tight in the store. "Did she see everything when the doctor let you see?"

His eye fell to their hands, and he gave a slow, single nod. "I was on such high doses of morphine that it didn't click how awful it was going to look, even though the physician explained what we'd see. The shock of it took a few hours to set in for me, but I think it hit her right away. The last time I saw her face to face, her hands flew to her mouth with such horror like I was some kind of monster. She stepped back from me and just sobbed," he whispered. "That's when I broke off the engagement. She looked so relieved. Ten minutes later, she walked out the door."

Her chest constricted. That's when this idea that he was a beast had been born, why he was convinced his wife shouldn't see his face. His eye held such shame. She cupped his face to lift his eye to hers. "You are not a monster." She brushed a kiss over his lips. "I'm proud of you for being so compassionate with her. It was just hard seeing you with her because she obviously regrets leaving."

That blue eye pulled her into the depths of his love. "I care for her, but I don't love her, Emma. How you've stood beside me through everything the past few months...no one else has ever gone that far for me, and I don't know anyone else who could. I want a woman as strong and compassionate as you. When things get hard, I'm not afraid of you leaving, Emma." He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, his voice raw with emotion. "You keep me from getting lost in the darkness and pain. I want to be everything for you that you are to me, Emma."

The raw emotions flowed from him right into her heart and unlocked the iron box.

"I love you, Emma." He leaned across the armrest, and his lips touched like the brush of a butterfly.

Her heart beat faster as tears gathered in her eyes. When she pressed her lips against his and held his face in her hands, mindful of his wounds, he didn't pull away.

Instead, his hand cupped over hers on his right jaw to feel her touch. "Kiss me, Emma," he whispered with so much love.


	41. Chapter 41

Her heart pounded out of her chest with excitement. The limo had all the flipperies like in the movies. A country song played over the speakers - from a favorite band that she'd danced to in her bedroom that day he'd caught her dancing in his shirt. She smiled and held his hand, leaning forward to look out the window.

The streets sparkled with lights. Dozens of crowds walked the streets wearing anything from blue jeans to evening attire. People played instruments on the corners. The hustle and bustle that usually was so unappealing was intoxicating tonight. This made Chicago seem quiet. "Where are we?" She looked out his window. Broadway shows flashed on a theater billboard. Her mouth fell open, and she looked at him. "Is this New York?"

He smiled and hit the intercom to the driver. "Pull over here, please." When the limo stopped, he took her hand and guided her out of the car and into a different world.

She smiled in awe and looked up. Skyscrapers stretched to the belly of the night sky. Billboards created a rainbow of glittering color. Music and honking cars and laughter and chatter cut through the air in an energetic melody. Hot dogs and french fries and street food vendor aromas wafted through the air. When she looked at him, he was smiling. "We should get back in the car." He wouldn't want to be out here on the public streets where everyone would stare.

"Come, love." He took her hand and set it on his arm, leading her through the crowds.

Excitement beat from him. A slight bounce lifted his step. There was something about him that seemed so free tonight. No one gave his mask a second glance. People with rainbow colored hair or tattooes everywhere or crazy piercings or outrageous outfits walked the streets. He blended in. Here everyone saw him as 'normal.' An ache originated deep in her stomach. Here he had freedom that didn't exist many other places in the world for him. When he grinned over his shoulder, he took her heart up to the clouds with him.

It was all so much to take in when he led her on his arm up the steps of a beautiful old building. A regal foyer in gold leaf and ornate paintings welcomed guests on the inside. Elegant, diamond frosted women and handsome, dignified men filed into a room beyond large wood double doors guarded by two men in very expensive looking black suits. Beautiful orchestra music flooded into the foyer. Jason led the way right up to the men. "Jason Port and Emma Hoplin," he said, standing tall and confident. Heavens, he positively glowed with excitement and looked so beautiful.

She started to open her gold clutch to show identification.

One of the men just looked at his tablet and nodded.

Jason looked at her with a smile. "Ready, love?"

She nodded, butterflies of excitement fluttering in her stomach. When he led her inside at the top of a grand sweeping staircase, she gasped.

The room's architecture stepped back into the 1800s. Massive chandeliers cast their sparkling light over the prodigious, gold leaf ballroom. Wall murals of mystical creatures centuries old watched over the glittering crowd.

She frowned and looked at him. His suit looked like what the other men wore. Leaning over, she whispered, "Are you wearing a tux?"

At first he frowned for a moment. Then a smile lit up his face and perfect, pearly teeth flashed past the gold half mask. His eye held laughter and love. "Yes, sweetheart."

"But you're not wearing - " Her eye landed on the bow tie. That hadn't been there earlier.

"I put it on in the car - can't stand having it around my neck." His eye swept the room and he walked to the stairs.

She laughed. "You wear ties at least thrice a week, Jason."

"A tie is easy to losen and not feel like a noose, my dear." His eye narrowed in on the steps.

Oh dear. This staircase extended quite high and steep, making for a long fall down if he miscalculated. Everyone walked down the middle of the wide staircase that spread wall to wall without railings. Jason would be a spectacle if he used the wall to help balance. She glanced up at him. He turned his head side to side just a bit a few times, as if trying to gain depth perception. His eye then followed the legs of several of the men who were going down the stairs - he probably measured the height of where the stairs hit at the back of the men's legs. A smile tugged her lips - his intelligent mind was determined to figure out how to not stick out tonight.

When he started forward, she slid her hand up his arm to hold his hand. At the first step, he slowed down a hair. She stepped down, locking her arm so he would be able to measure how far she pulled down his hand in accordance with the height of the stairs. She continued for two more steps the same way until he eased her hand back onto his arm and fell into step beside her.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She beamed a smile up at him, a warm wave washing over her heart at helping him be independent. "So, Dr. Port, what does one do at a masquerade ball?" She stepped off the bottom stair and let him lead her with the crowd. He stood tall enough that he could see over most of the swarm of people.

"Dance and mingle, sweetheart." He flashed a smile. "I admit that I had a motive behind this evening. First, I wanted to take you out for a fun evening doing something unique. Second, it is a charity ball for the homeless. Third, several of my colleagues are in attendance, and I wish to show off my lovely lady."

Her heart stilled. "Your colleagues?" Oh dear. Trying to keep up with world-leading physicians and researchers while offering scintillating conversation did not sound fun. Or easy. Or nerve wracking.

He patted her hand on his arm. "They will adore you, Emma. Do not fret. Would you like anything to drink?" His hand waved to a refreshment table.

"No, I'd rather not spill it all over the moment I meet these people." She clasped his sleeve a bit tighter. "I wish you would've said earlier that we were going to meet them."

"Sweetheart, they are simply people. It's impossible for anyone to not like you." He looked around. "I didn't mention it earlier because I didn't want you to worry. We'll get it over with so you aren't nervous all evening. It will be fine." As he guided her to a group of people, she swallowed down her stomach.

A port man with a mustache in his sixties smiled and extended his hand as Jason guided her over. "Jason! Good to see you."

Jason smiled and shook the man's hand. "A pleasure, Lionel." Nearly a dozen other men and women standing in the circle, ranging from late forties to probably early seventies, exchanged greetings and smiles with Jason.

She stood a step behind him on his left and held his hand when he didn't seem inclined to let go. Jason didn't seem to be an unsocial hermit. These people welcomed him with open arms like old friends. She cocked her head. His shoulders and grip were relaxed like he felt at ease with them too.

Then he turned with a smile and set a hand on the small of her back, urging her up beside him. The man beamed with pride.

Several of the people smiled and a few whispered among themselves when she came forward. A hot flush rose up her neck.

"Emma, may I introduce Dr. Lionel Watchmier? He is the one I worked with on the recent patent..." Jason went around doing introductions. All of these people were either involved in Jason's patents or the children's foundation, even their spouses.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Emma," Lionel's wife said with a warm smile, her sparkling blue evening dress and feathers in her silver hair quivered with as much life as their mistress. "Jason speaks of you all the time. She is a beauty, Jason." The woman's blue eyes lit up and flashed a smile at Jason before returning to her. "Have you been here before, dear?"

Here came the painful differences between this elite crowd and herself. "This is my first time to New York, actually, Mrs. Watchmeir." She glanced out of the corner of her eye. The group watched with raptured attention like they hung on her every word. The tension wound tighter and tighter in her shoulders until her bones threatened to creak. Jason's hand on her lower back burned warm through the gown, offering some measure of comfort.

"Eve, please. 'Mrs.' sounds so stuffy," the woman smiled and waved a hand while holding a champaign glass in the other. "You are in for a treat. Jason, you must show her the gardens tonight. They are absolutely gorgeous." Then she leaned forward a bit to whisper, "The menfolk tend to steal a kiss out there." Eve gave Jason a pointed look, as if to make sure he got the hint.

She suppressed a nervous smile, and several of the other couples chuckled.

"I must say, Jason, I'm a bit disappointed the girl doesn't have a ring yet," one of the younger men teased.

Jason smiled and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Contrary to you, Bernard, I prefer to get to know a lady first."

The lot of them broke out laughing.

He looked down at her. "My apologies, not polite discussion in front of ladies. In Asia a couple years ago, he picked up a girl at a bar who took him back to what he thought was her place. Turns out she was a...shall we say a brothel employee?"

She pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh. Forcing a frown, she looked at him. "Are you a bit of a troublemaker at work?"

That erupted a wave of laughter from everyone, except Jason. His mouth fell open in mock offense. "I am not."

Lionel stepped forward and draped an arm around Jason's shoulders the best he could being her own height. Jason cracked a smile, much like that of a younger sibling whose older brother teased him. Lionel patted Jason's chest while still laughing. "He is a good lad but the youngest one in our field yet. We are obligated to give him a hard time. On occassion, he does hand it back to us."

"Either give him a kiss or let him go take his ladylove for a stroll in the gardens, Lionel," one of the other men said with a chuckle.

Lionel looked up at Jason with a grin. "What say you, lad? Me or this lovely dove?"

Jason shrugged off the man's arm with a smile and encircled his arms around her. "Eve," he said in all seriousness and everyone sobered, "you have my deepest sympathies."

They all burst out laughing. With a warm smile, Jason looked down at her and swept her away from the rambunctious crowd.

It was good and different to see him so happy and comfortable with people. She smiled and walked on his arm outside through a beautiful maze of evergreen bushes and perennials. Soft orchestra music played through hidden speakers and drowned out the noise of the city. A few other couples walked the expansive gardens lit by old fashioned oil lamps encased in glass.

"You seem to enjoy your colleagues." She cuddled closer to his arm as they meandered the stone path.

"Are you cold, sweetheart?" He started to unbutton his tux.

She smiled at his sweetness. "No, I just like walking close to you."

"Tell me if you chill." He dropped his hand and simply walked with her on his arm. "At first, a few of them pitied me for the burns. It took about six months of working like a dog to get them to not agree with me about everything out of pity. I enjoy their company now, even when we disagree over work. Most of them live in other countries and are here on holiday at this time of year."

"I like them. You seem more relaxed around them than Trudy and Pete, though." She frowned and looked up at him.

His eye focused on the path. "It is different being a live-in employer, Emma."

"Or is it easier to open up with your coworkers who aren't around daily to get too close? You don't let people in very far, Jason."

"You are."

"Besides me." She cocked an eyebrow.

"Emma, there is a fine line between employer and friend when living in the same house. It does no harm having a clear distinction - "

She set her other hand on his arm to stop his words. "But what is it you're worried about that makes you keep up a wall with them? They love you and have seen the burns. I can't figure out why you hold them at bay."

He met her gaze. "Does it matter?"

"I would like to better understand the dynamics of the house once we marry."

He frowned. "I haven't really given much thought about what happens after we marry - regarding where we'd live and everything."

She blinked. "Oh. I just assumed it would be your place, at least until the kids are old enough for school. Then I wasn't sure if you'd want to stay or move into town."

"I suppose this is a topic to discuss because I assumed you'd want to move to Chicago to be closer to your mother." He guided her to the left when the path split.

"What is your preference? I think Mom wouldn't mind moving out here to be closer to the grandkids. She and Dad were planning on moving wherever I end up settling down..." Her voice trailed off. Dad. He would've loved having grandkids climbing all over him and spoiling them.

He stopped and pulled her into his arms, stroking her back. "He'll still see them, sweetheart."

A soft kiss planted on the top of her head. She swallowed hard. Grief would not ruin tonight. With a sniffle, she brushed at her eyes and pulled back to continue walking. "Where do you want to live?"

"Honestly?" He guided her arm through his again. "I only want to be wherever you are, love. I want to be where you are happy."

She smiled and leaned her cheek against his arm. "Would you dislike staying? I know you need someone to drive the mountain roads for you."

He shook his head. "I'm used to it, so I don't mind. If you like the house, I have no objections to staying. We can decide once the children are older if we want to move into town."

"I love the house." The smile in her heart leaked out to her lips. "It's so magical and romantic what you've done with it. I'd hate to leave. At least not yet."

A soft chuckle bounced his arm. "Then we shall stay. While we're on the topic...I know the therapist said it's best for us to have separate bedrooms, at least in the beginning and test out how it goes. You can have your pick of any bedroom in the house, and you can redecorate any rooms you choose. I want you to feel at home there."

That melted her heart. "That's very sweet, but nothing stands out that I'd want to redecorate." She nibbled her lip. It would be nice having a bedroom closer to his, if not next to him. But perhaps it wouldn't be enough distance for him to have that time to unwind. Asking might seem like pressuring. But then guessing might mean making the wrong choice. He would discuss it if asked. "Jay? Is a bedroom in the same hallway too close?"

He frowned and led her to a stone bench. Once she sat, he did too and took her hands. "You are not to worry about such things." His eye searched hers. "I never want you to worry about if you should come in during the middle of the night or if you're asking me too much to sleep in the same bed or anything like that. For all we know, having time alone to get work done will be enough and we can have the same bedroom from the start."

She nodded but bit her lip.

He ran his finger just under her lip and she freed it. "This is not your responsibility to figure out the boundaries, Emma. I'm beginning to recognize when I'm getting agitated. I will work on announcing it rather than trying to brush it under the rug. I wish for you to express your desires. If you desire to sleep in the same room for several nights, tell me and we'll try it. If you desire more cuddling or kisses or time talking, I need you to voice that. You need to express your boundary lines as much as I do."

She nodded. "But I need you to be honest if staying another night is too much. If you force yourself and then it blows up, that teaches me to not ask because I won't believe you if you agree."

"Of course. There may be times, however, when I do feel it's alright but then part way through the night I might need to leave. I'm learning the limits too and will need to know that option is there without causing hurt. I understand that it could be hard not to take it personally, but I'll tell you why I need to go and we can talk about it a bit later. Perhaps even an hour away will be enough for me to reset and come back. It will be very important for us to have open communication so our relationship doesn't deteriorate."

She nodded and leaned forward, brushing a kiss over his lips. "I like that we can talk like this, Jay."

A smile lit up his eye, and he ran one of the curls over her shoulder through his hand. "I do too and don't want to lose this, sweetheart." His eye caressed over her, sending a shiver up her spine. "The firelight catches flecks of red in your hair and makes a beautiful glow against your skin." He seemed almost in awe. "You look exceptionally beautiful tonight, Emma," he said in a low, husky tone that flowed like warm honey. That gorgeous blue eye reflected not only the firelight but a deep sea of love. "I think it's because I fall more in love with you with each passing day," he whispered and brushed his lips over hers in a slow, soft kiss.

The bench dipped and her heart dissolved into a puddle in his hands. Her chest rose and fell against the cool bodice of the gown. A soft sigh slipped past her lips when he kissed slow and seductive. Hunger and desire flooded her belly when his tongue would not come forth. When he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open in confusion. She gasped at the necklace he held out in his palm.

On a delicate gold chain was a rose bloom as big as her thumbnail made out of what appeared to be rubies and emeralds. Her eyes flew to him. "Jason, it's beautiful..." But far too extravagant.

"Before you protest that you stole meals from seven hundred orphans," he smiled and held it up in the firelight, "it's not gems. It's colored crystal. I did restrain myself. Although you would be beautiful in gems, I know you feel uncomfortable receiving extravagant fripperies. I sent the extra money to a reputable sponsor for an orphan program overseas." He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a photo of beautiful but terribly undernourished African twin girls who couldn't be more than four years old. They wore rags on their waists, their chests not even covered. Pot bellies from starvation stuck out under their sad, dirty faces.

She slipped the picture out of his hands, her heart breaking. Here she sat in jewels and fine dress while these children had only rags and no food. "They look like they're starving."

He pulled out more pictures. "They were. Aziza and Dalia. They were orphaned a year ago when their mother died of cholera." He set another picture in her hands. Two beautiful girls, filled out a bit more and smiling, wearing school uniforms waved at the camera. "This is them as of last week after receiving proper meals for two months. They started school three weeks ago."

They looked like different children, with their bodies filling out and clean faces glowing with smiles. Tears blurred the picture. "Oh, Jason...I don't even know what to say. This is the perfect gift."

He set another picture in her hands. A dozen children in a group photo wearing the same school uniforms as the girls grinned at the camera. "I restrained myself with the jewels, but I just couldn't here, Emma. Those poor girls were dying. You could choose which child to sponsor. How can you choose which ones are going to live? So I went a little wild and sponsored them all."

Her eyes popped. "All?"

He grinned but then looked a bit sheepish. "I didn't know it would create a problem with taxes the way I did it. The organization wrote me a letter saying I have to send them some kind of paperwork so they can remain nonprofit. So...there's a little bit of a string attached. I need an accountant's help in untangling the mess I created."

She laughed, her heart so light, and brushed away the tears. "It's simple enough to fix." Then she hugged him. "Jay, this is perfect. Thank you." Then she cuddled up to him to look at the children as he pointed out each one's name and story that he'd memorized. "You have a big soft spot for children, don't you?" she smiled.

"Where on earth would you get an idea like that?" He chuckled and held her tight.

Her gift seemed so pathetic in comparison. Biting her lip, she sat back and met his eye. "Um, I'm still digging out from the medical and legal bills, so cash is a bit tight. I didn't buy something as wonderful as this..."

"Emma, I don't expect anything." He frowned and took her hands. "Having tonight with you is enough."

"I didn't want to not do anything, though, and I know you don't like your picture taken..." She opened her gold clutch and held out a laminated wallet-size, black-and-white photo of her resting her hands on his chest, with her face tilted up to him, and him cupping her cheek and gazing down. It showed only his left profile as they were about to kiss, with the emotion captured just the way he liked in photos.

"Oh, Emma. This is beautiful." He eased it out of her hands in awe. "Who took this picture?"

"I drew it," she answered in soft tones, her heart pounding. He was simply being kind in saying it looked like a photo.

His eyebrow shot up and he stared at her. "You _drew_ it? How on earth...?" He looked at it closer.

A flush crept up. "Well, I had to draw it on an eight-by-ten sheet and scan it to shrink it down because I can't draw that tiny."

He snorted. "It's even harder to draw detail on a large scale. How on earth could your professor have said you don't have talent? This is exquisite, Emma. You even captured the little strand of hair that always curls by your ear. This is beautiful." Pulling out his wallet, he moved his driver's license out of the clear pocket and put the drawing in there instead. Then he looked at it once more. "Is it rude of me to ask for the larger drawing too?"

"Oh. Um, sure. I was just going to stick in a closet." Her face burned. The man made such a fuss over something so elementary and insignificant.

A deep frown turned down the corner of his mouth. "A closet? Em, you could sell your work for good money if you wished. I'd like to hang it in my office.

In his office where his clients and everyone could see it. The thought made her stomach churn. When his large, warm hand, covered hers in her lap, the nerves rattled a bit less.

"You haven't drawn anything in earnest since college, have you?" Compassion but sadness wove through his words.

She swallowed hard and stared down at his hand. "I was so worried about you in the hospital that I had trouble sleeping. So I sat beside the bed and drew you while you slept because I can't get your features right just seeing you in my head."

His hand squeezed hers, and he tilted his head down to catch her eye. "There's nothing wrong with having to see what you're drawing, Emma. Your professor was wrong that your art isn't talent. I don't care what he said. I think your art is beautiful and would love if you made more of it for the house."

She blinked. He seemed to genuinely like her work.

A few minutes later, she flushed walking back into the ballroom. Surely everyone would be able to tell that he'd kissed her senseless in the gardens on the way back inside. She laid a hand on her burning cheeks to cool them.

"Would you like something to drink, sweetheart?" He escorted her to the refreshment table and looked to her for her selection as they waited behind another couple.

"I think I'll just have a water." She opened her clutch to pay.

He frowned and laid his hand over hers. "No. You do not pay when I take you out."

With a sigh, she closed her purse. "Thank you. But for your birthday next week - "

His eyebrow cocked. "No. Call me old fashioned, but it doesn't feel right having a lady pay my way. Particularly when I have the means to pay. I understand these are liberal times, so if you want to pay your own way on my birthday if we go out, I'll relent on that. But you aren't paying my way."

She frowned. "This is the twenty first century, Jason. There are women who are the breadwinners of the family."

"Yes, and more power to them. I'm not against feminism, but there is no reason for chivalry to die either." The other couple left. He waved his hand for her to order herself and slipped a ten dollar bill in her hand, a gentle smile on his lips as he set a hand on her back.

Her expression faltered, taken aback by his manner and being put on the spot. This wasn't like him.

"I don't mean to ever undermine your indepedence," he said in her ear.

Ah. He meant to be acknowledging her strength. She smiled and handed the money back to him. "That's all I wanted," she said in soft tones for his ears alone.

A twinkle gleamed in his eye, and he ordered her water. When he handed her the glass of sparkling water and led her away on his arm, he chuckled. "Goodness, you are interesting. So you do not mind me placing your order as long as I'm conscious of the fact that you don't need to rely on me to place your order."

"Yes," she smiled and took a sip, leading him over to a corner of the room. "Are you thirsty?"

He gave her an odd look. "I can't..."

"But are you?" She tugged his sleeve until he leaned down so she could whisper. "I couldn't fit a straw in my purse, so I had to stick it down my bodice."

He burst out in a hearty belly laugh, drawing everyone's eyes. Holding a hand over his mouth, he smothered the noise but his shoulders still shook. "That's very sweet, Em." Then his voice fell to a whisper, a smile still spreading his lips. "I assume you need a washroom to get it?"

She glanced around and stepped up against him for a kiss. Then she slipped it out and stepped back with it in her hand.

He turned his head with his eye closed, and his shoulders shook as he bit his lip to not smile.

"Hush," she whispered. "It's probably not entirely sanitary but..." She dropped it in the glass and offered it to him with burning cheeks.

A snort escaped his failed attempt at smothering back his laugh. He leaned a hand against the wall and bowed his head, struggling to control himself. "Oh god," he wheezed and wiped his eye. "That was great." He took the glass. "Thank you, Emma. That was sweet of you to think to bring one. Can I put it back when I'm done?" He took a drink and winked, obviously teasing.

She cocked an eyebrow. "I'm so glad you found it amusing," she drawled. When he offered her the rest, she shook her head. "You're so stubborn that you probably won't drink again tonight. Finish it. You can buy me another if I get thirsty again."

"Yes, ma'm." He downed the rest and then removed the straw and tucked it in his inside breast pocket. "You're refreshing, Em. I think I shall wash this straw and cut it in two when I get home. I'll keep one on my desk and one in my suitcase." The man set the glass down on an empty tray when a waiter passed.

She frowned. "Keep it?"

Tucking her arm through his, he nodded and started leading the way. "Yes. So I always have it to remind me of the things you did this night to make me feel like I fit in with everyone." Then he stopped on the edge of the floor where everyone danced, and he looked into her eyes. His voice fell to a husky, intimate tone as he cupped her cheek so tenderly. "Because you believe I have a place, I do, Emma. With you." Then he took her in his arms and swept away her heart on the dance floor.


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews for the last four chapters, Waya17, Cloelius Princess, YazminXD, Singingsilent, Guest, JustAStranger, and MissSparrow101!**

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Her heart raced when his car pulled into the apartment parking lot on his birthday morning. The rising sun cast a vibrant golden glow on the world. Dropping the curtain, she darted into the bathroom and checked her hair once more. She ran a hand down her white and red rose sundress that he'd given her in New York after catching her eyeing it from a street vendor. Today would be his best birthday yet.

She grabbed her purse and the framed oil color drawing wrapped in a box. The two-by-three foot package was a bit awkward to carry, but it disguised the treasure inside. It had taken six hours to get the colors to blend just right for the giant red rose bloom, but even her former art professor would have trouble finding fault with this piece.

"Prince! Jason's here!"

The dog scrambled up from where he napped in the middle of the living room and shot to the door. When Jason knocked, Prince barked with excitement, his tail whipping.

She set down the box and climbed over Prince to open the door. Opening the door, she threw her arms around him with a grin. "Happy birthday!"

He hugged her tight and accepted a hearty kiss on the lips. "Thank you, sweetheart." An undertone of stress tinted his voice.

Something was wrong. Pulling back, she kept her hands on his shoulders. He wore his suit and a red satin tie. It was Saturday. He never wore a tie on Saturdays and not often on Sundays. Her smile died. "Do you have to work today?"

"Hm? No." Not the typical confident and explanatory response. His eye shifted away to the dog but didn't seem to see him.

"Oh." She frowned when he didn't elaborate. "Is everything alright? You seem distracted."

With a strained smile, he met her eyes. "Yes. My apologies. I was thinking about something." He dropped his hands from her waist. "Shall we?" Scooping up Prince's leash, he hooked it to the collar and then held out his hand for her to come.

"Hold on. I need to grab this box." She lifted it up.

Jason took it from her. "You get the box and I'll take the dog." He maneuvered the bulky box and held out the leash.

She blinked. Hm. He said that backwards from what he meant, apparently. That wasn't like him. Perhaps work was on his mind.

In the car, Prince sat in the middle seat between them and slept. Jason stared at the back of the passenger seat for several minutes, not even seeming to care about the dog hair clinging to his suit.

She laid a hand on his arm, and he jumped. "Are you alright, Jay? If there's something pressing with work, we can postpone until tomorrow."

He pressed his lips together and searched her eyes. "My apologies, Emma. Just lost in thought. Thank you for straightening out the sponsorship with the orphans. I emailed the paperwork yesterday, and the director responded last night that it's exactly what she needed."

"Of course." She smiled and slipped her hand into his. When he looked away again, her smile faded. The excitement for the day melted away. "Hey," she said softly. "Talk to me. Something has you rattled."

A pained look crossed his face, and he met her eyes. "Are you happy with me?" So much weighed on those words.

Was he not? The world slowed and lost it's vibrance. Her heart floated the floor. Things had seemed wonderful. Yesterday he'd been a little quiet and had taken to bed with a migraine from stress...he'd said it was work stress. Pete had driven her home alone. Those should've been signs. "You aren't happy?" Her brow ached from a deep frown. This wasn't like him to be so distant, to not give any previous indication that things were bothering him this much.

"Not happy? No. I mean, yes." He closed his eye and drew a deep breath before looking at her again. "I am, but I need you to be brutally honest if you're happy, Emma." He held a hand over his left chest for a moment and then dropped it. Sadness waited behind his eye.

She frowned and searched his gaze, throbbing from this pain he seemed to be fighting. He'd been distraught over something, and she'd had no idea. "Of course I'm happy. Did I do something to make you think otherwise?" Holding his hand tighter, she leaned across Prince to be closer to him.

"No, I'm just making sure..." His words trailed off and he stared at the passenger seat again. "Emma? On Wednesday and Thursday I'll be gone all day." His voice washed flat. "Stevens can still bring you to the house, if you wish."

"Oh. That's alright. I can manage working at my place," she teased. But he didn't smile or look at her. She squeezed his hand. "May I ask if it's a business trip?" Something was wrong, and he didn't want to explain what.

His eye analyzed every inch of her face, as if calculating her reaction. "No. Once a year I need a battery of medical appointments, so I cram them all into two days."

Her heart twisted and shoulders slumped. Appointments because of the burns. "Oh, Jay." This must be what had him so stressed, and perhaps he still had a headache from yesterday. "May I come with you? I can just sit in the waiting rooms. If I get ahead with work this weekend, I'm sure Olin will let me off."

A soft smile touched his lips, but the sadness still remained in his eye. "Thank you, but it would make a very long and boring day, Emma. And you don't need to waste your weekend." He seemed to want to say more but looked unsure if he should.

"Jay, it's a bit like prying nails to get you to talk today." She offered a small smile and gave his hand a wiggle.

That same worried look returned in his eye. "I have routine physical, dental, and optical appointments." Then he took a deep breath. "And I have to see a dermatologist, audiologist, physical therapist, pulmonologist, and get a scan to check for esophageal and lung cancers."

The second list must be because of the fire accident. Her heart constricted. How dearly he still paid so others could live. Yet he didn't seem to ever resent the sacrifices he'd made. Tension hardened his expression, like he forced up a wall to protect himself from her reaction.

Tilting her head, she held his eye. "Is it shock or horror that you expect?"

His eye narrowed and he raised his chin, clearly bracing for what history had taught him.

Hm. Both reactions, apparently. Looking at him with calm patience, she pressed her lips together. "My dear, I fear I shall disappoint you." She hit the button on her door to roll down the dividing window. "Pete, pull over for a moment, please."

"Yes, ma'm."

The car stopped and she rolled up the window. Then she climbed over the lazy dog and squeezed into Jason's lap. The man eyed her with suspicion. Setting her hands on his shoulders, she held his gaze. "That's a lot of waiting rooms. I shall get in good exercise while pacing."

He frowned and blinked, as if taken aback. "There's no need for you to come and be stressed."

"I'm going to pace all day whether you leave me here or take me along. I'd much rather be there to rub your back or talk or just sit with you to ease the stress. It can't be an easy couple days." Then she brushed her lips over his smooth cheek.

Wrinkles marred his forehead, as if it seemed incomprehendable that someone should go with him. "I'm usually in ill humor. You'll have a much better day staying home, but thank you, Emma." The tension still remained in his shoulders.

She sighed. Three days left to work on him. If he remained pigheaded, she'd just have to dive into the car at the last minute like she'd done with the dentist appointment. Stubborn man. When was he going to realize they were in this together?

He remained quiet even when he sat on the sofa with her in the cabin room at his house. The poor man shouldn't have scheduled these medical appointments so close to his birthday. He needed some cheering up. She bounced up and grabbed the giant present he'd set on the floor. "I know it's early, but you need something to perk you up. Open your present, Jay." When she set it on his lap and plopped next to him, he didn't move.

"Emma, I think it might be better if we talk first." He set down the present and turned to her. "Do you have any reservations about us?"

Her smile dropped. "No. What on earth are you worried about? Just say it." Her heart pounded. He didn't touch her or take her hand or even look at her. Instead, he dropped his eye to the sofa and touched his left chest again for a moment. He didn't want her at the appointments, and he was so distant today. Something had gradually changed in his manner since last Saturday. He'd grown more and more distant. Since Carolyn.

She swallowed her stomach and her heart stumbled. Oh, she should've seen it. He said he loved her, but that didn't mean he didn't love someone else too. Like Carolyn. That was the only moment their world had been shaken this past week. He was having doubts. She drew a shakey breath as the room spun. Tears burned behind her eyes and she pressed her lips together, fighting to not cry. He didn't deserve to be guilted into staying if he wasn't happy. He deserved all the happiness in the world...even if it meant giving up hers. "It's her, isn't it?"

"What?"

She shoved herself up and stepped around him to be near the door before her heart shattered.

"Emma?"

Clutching the doorknob in a white knuckled grip, she stared at the knotty pine wood as the tears welled. It had to be Carolyn to make him do a one-eighty in a single week after these past wonderful months. "Is it Carolyn? You still have feelings for her?" He'd probably thought about his proposal to and memories with Carolyn...it had probably brought back all of his feelings.

"Carolyn? What?" The sofa groaned and footsteps came closer. His gentle hands held her upper arms. "No, Emma, I love you."

She sniffled and rested her forehead against the door as tears fell. "What's going on? Why are you pushing me away all week? You act like you're getting ready to run."

"No. Emma." He sounded sick to his stomach and pulled her into his arms. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I've been up late thinking about other things this week. I was going to wait until tonight, but I'm not doing a very good job with this. Let's go talk in the arboretum. You don't have anything to worry about. I vow I'm not looking to step back our relationship, sweetheart. And I promise Carolyn has nothing to do with anything." He pulled out a handkerchief and turned her to dry her eyes. "Don't cry, love." Then he tilted her head a bit to search her eyes. "Better? I promise it's just my nerves all week thinking about discussing something with you." He held out his hand. "Will you come talk?"

She nodded and took his clammy hand. "Are you feeling ill?"

"No." His arm slipped around her waist as they ascended the stairs. "Tell me why you jumped to the conclusion that if something is wrong between us, it has to do with her." Patience and gentleness eminated from him.

She shrugged and stared at the steps. Nerves still gnawed at her stomach. "You've been pulling away since Saturday and seemed so sad after running into her. She's the only thing that has been different lately." She turned down the hall with him.

"I was sad for her situation, not that I left her. That is a choice I will never regret for one instant, Emma, because I have you." He took a breath to say more.

She bit her lip and brushed at her eyes.

"Sweetheart?"

With a shake of her head, she kept her gaze on the carpet. "I know it's not fair or pertinent...I just...it's bothering me that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her enough to propose." She bit her lip to hold back the tears. "You don't owe me an explanation or anything. I think actually meeting her just made it seem more real."

A heartfelt sigh of sadness escaped him, and he turned to face her. "Emma?" His finger guided her chin up to meet his eye. "You need to remember that things were much different when she was around - much more carefree and...well, superficial. I proposed at a restaurant and didn't get down on one knee. I didn't give much thought to planning it, which should've been a sign in itself. It wouldn't have been a happy marriage if hardship hit, sweetheart. And I thank God that the fire happened before marrying her. I have no doubts that she would have left on her own in enough time.

"It was a very hard road, but you are worth everything. If given the choice to go through it all again and have you, or erase everything that's ever happened and end up with her, I would walk through that fire again in a heartbeat, Emma."

Tears welled and she looked into his eye. He truly meant those words, even knowing the physical and emotional pain and hardships that would come from it. Love poured from his heart and washed over her. The love and honor of this man never failed to still her heart. Humility and awe and admiration glowed deep inside. And it did help to hear that he hadn't been madly in love with Carolyn.

She stopped at the arboretum doors and laid her hands on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her waist and took her right hand in his. "Jason, let me come with you on Wednesday and Thursday. You've bore so much alone. Let me be with you. Even just so you know I'm sitting a few feet away in the waiting room if you need me. If you want me in the room with you, I'll go. We're in this together. And don't use the excuse that you're embarrassed because I know you're going to want to come along for prenatal appointments. By the time the baby is born, about twenty people will have seen more of me than even I've seen."

He laughed, a dimple forming in his cheek as he tried to hold back a smile. "Perhaps, but I'll be there to support you and make sure you and the baby are alright."

"So why can't I do the same?" She searched that beautiful blue eye.

He nodded, the faint smile still lingering. "Alright. I can go for the physical and optical appointments alone, but you can come for the rest." So much tension seemed to lift from his shoulders.

She stood on her toes and cupped his cheek to pull him down and brush a kiss over his lips. "You drive me crazy, Jay." She smiled. "You should just tell me if you want me there."

His eye diverted and his smile died. "It doesn't seem right to ask you to give up an entire day. She wouldn't - " He cut off his words and darted a glance at her.

Cocking an eyebrow, she held his eye. "Do I look like Carolyn? Talk like her? Have the same name?"

He looked sheepish.

"I'm not sure why you keep confusing me with her." She set her hand on a hip and tapped her chin. "There's this really hot guy, and he seems to like me better than a blonde."

He looked taken aback, uncertain, and a little hurt.

Oh goodness. He didn't realize it was him. She slipped her arms around his neck. "He has the bluest eye and very silky hair." She ran her fingers through it at the back of his head. The light started to dawn in his eye. "And he has this accent that gets me hot and bothered." With a roll of her eyes, she smiled. "And his body is...oh my god." She widened her eyes for emphasis.

A light blush swept over his face. "Sounds like a smart man to adore a pretty little rose like you."

She smiled. "Yes, but do you know what I love most about him?"

His brow furrowed in question.

"His heart." When she started to lay her hand over his heart, he snatched it up in his. She stilled in confusion.

A bit of an embarrassed laugh escaped him. "Come here, sweetheart. This is getting dangerous."

Dangerous? She frowned and followed him into the arboretum.

He stared at the stone path as they walked and mumbled something to himself.

"Sorry?"

He looked at her and shook his head. "I can't figure out how to say this. I wanted it to be perfect, but I'm botching up this whole morning." Drawing a deep breath, he seemed to steady his heart that visibly pounded through his suit.

"Honey, just say it." She swept a hand out. "Blunt conversation, no hurt feelings for five minutes. Go." The birds overhead chirped in agreement in the morning sun.

He chuckled. "No, it's not quite like that." The man blew out a deep breath. "Do you still want to get engaged before Christmas?" He stopped at the red roses in full bloom at the back of the arboretum and took her hands.

"Are you worried that these appointments this week are going to change my mind? Is that what has had you so stressed?"

So much worry filled his eye. "A bit. I don't want you to feel like you have to stay."

"Jay, I stay because I love you." She held his hands tighter and searched his eye. "Why are you so worried that I feel obligated? I've been through some of your medical ordeals with you. I know that your body gives you trouble sometimes, but how on earth could I ever not love you because of that?" She frowned. "I love you, Jason. Unconditionally."

He swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling a bit fast. "Emma, I love you more than I thought humanly possible. That night I pulled you from the car, something happened. You were still unconscious and so battered, but I couldn't let you go. These feelings of protectiveness and vulnerability hit with such force - emotions I'd never had before. I held your hand for hours before you started to wake up. A time or two, people have been lost or stranded on the mountain during winter and had to stay here for a couple days. But I was never unable to leave their bedside. I know you had to break through so many walls because I tried so hard to push you away."

Her heart stumbled. He'd never spoken before of the night he'd found her. Or that the world had shifted for him too.

"You've changed me, Emma. I'm still learning, but I let people in more now. You've taught me to trust and have faith again. You're so kind and compassionate and so full of love. You're my best friend, and my heart has always belonged to you." He knelt on one knee and reached in under his suit over his heart. Again.

Chest pain? Her stomach dropped in fear and she knelt. "Jay, does your chest hurt? Why do you keep touching it?" Her phone was in her purse. But there was no 911 here.

He blinked and pulled his hand out. "No. No, I'm fine. Stand up, sweetheart." He caught her hand on his chest and stood with her. His hands felt clammy again. With a reassuring look, he knelt again and reached inside his suit.

If he was having chest pain and being stubborn, she'd wring his neck after he'd get out of the hospital.

"You've stood by me through so much and proven your love over and over again. I want to prove my love to you in whatever ways you'll let me." He held her left hand in his and looked up to hold her eyes. "I want to start with asking you to be my wife." He pulled out a diamond ring from his breast pocket and held it out.

A silent gasp escaped her. He was proposing. He was proposing! The ring was a beautiful rose bloom carved out of white gold. A diamond nestled in the center. A band of delicate latticing - so fine it glittered - sprouted from each side of the rose. It was the most breathtaking jewelry ever seen...because he had designed it.

Her breath froze and she stared in shock. Then her heart started pounding. Oh my god. It had never occurred that he'd do it today. "But, it's your birthday," she blurted dumbly and her voice quivered. It was a dream. He'd said before Christmas but after their anniversary date. This couldn't be real. This moment had taken forever to come and now it was here.

A soft smile lit his face. "Yes, and I want you for my birthday. I asked your mother for her blessing and I prayed to your father for his. Now I ask you, Emma. I ask for the honor of being the man to take you down the aisle, to raise a family with you, and to grow old with you. I ask to be the one to be by your side through tears and pain and grief, and also so much joy and happiness. I ask for your heart and promise to never let go. Emma, will you give me the honor of having your hand in marriage?" His eye shimmered like a diamond through his tears welling.

Tears fell down her cheeks. It was the most beautiful proposal. And he'd asked for both Mama's and Dad's blessings. He'd been planning this for some time. Her heart melted. If only this moment could last forever. She knelt, still holding his hand, and glided the back of her right hand over his left cheek where he would feel the caress. "Jason, I love you with all my heart. You're so gentle and honorable and strong. You're my knight and my guiding light when it gets dark. I didn't realize how lost I was until you found me. I'm a better person with you. I know sometimes you have doubts, not that I'll run away but that I'll pull back." She shook her head and searched his eye. "When your demons come, give me your sword. I will slay them and keep you as safe as you keep me."

A tear ran down his cheek.

"You are my best friend, my love, and my partner." She leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes for a moment, simply basking in his love. Then she pulled back to look into his loving eye. "Of course I'll marry you, my Jay."

He slid the ring onto her finger and helped her stand, his dazzling smile and the joy in her heart both putting the sun to shame. Then he took her in his arms and let all the joy and love and passion in his heart flow into his kiss.

 _The End_


	43. Chapter 43

**Author's Note: Just figured out the final title of the trilogy. :)** ** _Under the Love of a Rose_** **. I have to write the first chapter yet, so watch my author page for when it posts.**

 **Thanks to all you readers!**


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